


The Odd Death of Charles C. Morgan

by icantwritegood



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I PROMISE I WILL FINISH THIS ONE, Jealous Shane, Partition by Beyoncé is a big thing in this fic, Pinky promise, Protective Ryan, Shane Madej Is A Dick, Yikes, aka im not gonna get sad and weird and dark, and he's also FBI, for the purpose of narration and also because i write him better, going a bit old school here, hopefully YUPPA, kinda along the lines of my von emster fic, not exactly in that line it kinda flip flops between the three, on a break until my exams are over!!, or the jamison family one, ryan is a normal guy... OR IS HE, shane-centric, shyan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-04 21:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 78,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16354439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantwritegood/pseuds/icantwritegood
Summary: Charles C. Morgan is found dead in the middle of the desert, in very mysterious circumstances. The Treasury Department is up in arms, but this time, they're given help; a cocky, flippant, and generally uncooperative FBI agent. His counterpart from the Treasury is not quite content with this.Cue adjoining desks, multiple carguments, and a mutual need to strangle the other with their bare hands. And later, some other mutual needs.





	1. Correspondence

**Author's Note:**

> _Remember your Creator_   
>  _before the sun and the light_   
>  _and the moon and the stars grow dark,_   
>  _and the clouds return after the rain;_   
>  _when the keepers of the house tremble,_   
>  _and the strong men stoop,_   
>  _and those looking through the windows grow dim;_   
>  _when the doors to the street are closed_   
>  _when people rise up at the sound of birds,_   
>  _but all their songs grow faint;_   
>  _when people are afraid of heights_   
>  _and of dangers in the streets;_   
>  _Then people go to their eternal home_   
>  _and mourners go about the streets._
> 
> _Remember him—before the silver cord is severed,_   
>  _and the golden bowl is broken;_   
>  _before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,_   
>  _and the wheel broken at the well,_   
>  _and the dust returns to the ground it came from,_   
>  _and the spirit returns to God who gave it._
> 
> _“Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher._   
>  _“Everything is meaningless!”_
> 
>  
> 
> \- Ecclesiastes 12:1-8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emails and fisticuffs await.

It smelled like smoke. He wasn't sure why. No one was smoking in the room. Not him, and not the man sitting across from him. But still, the air was hazy, thick. He waited.

"You know what's happened to him?"

"Yes. I know."

"And you know what's going to happen to him yet?"

"Yes." A quiet swallow. "I know."

"And do you know what you're doing to do when that comes about?"

A silence. "Hide it."

"Hide it." The man sat down across from him, eyes fixed on his. "And who are you going to hide it from?"

"Everyone."

"Correct." He went quiet, tapping his desk with his pen. "You do know your life will be at risk?"

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I know."

He watched him. "The FBI are sending someone. They don't know the size of this. No one does. You have to keep him under your thumb."

He nodded again, fingers fidgeting on his lap. "Who are they sending?"

"A one Shane Madej." He pushed the folder towards him. "We've been keeping tabs on him for the past few weeks. He seems to have his head in the clouds a lot. Which will work for your advantage."

He opened the file, skimming it. "But he's pretty successful. Looking at this." He narrowed his eyes at one of the photos. "Wait. Is- Is he spilling coffee on himself in that one?"

"Yes. I thought it'd be important to include that. Just to show you who you might be dealing with."

He turned to the next photo, trying to keep the amused smile from his face. The guy was running down the bustling street, struggling to tie his tie, his suit jacket just about hanging over his arm. "Right. I'll admit, my nerves are calmed a little bit."

"Don't get too relaxed, Bergara." He raised an eyebrow. "Stay focused. This is all in your hands now."

* * *

The office was loud. The office was always loud. How were people supposed to get any work done at all around here? Shane sipped his coffee, still feeling a little ticked off. He didn't want to leave the headquarters. It wasn't fair. Oh, he was good at his job, so he was being punished for it? Sound logic.

"The Department is literally just around the corner, Shane."

"I don't wanna go."

"You sound like a child." Sara spread her hands. "It's right beside the White House. That's classy as fuck!"

"It's full of goddamn accountants, Sara." He rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna be miserable. It's- It's a stagnant hellhole."

She raised an eyebrow. "Have you been there yet?"

"Uh, no."

"Yeah, because I was about to say it's really fucking pretty."

"Yeah, whatever." Shane observed the file in front of him. "But, like, how?"

His partner glanced up. "How what?"

"How does a guy from the fucking Treasury Department get kidnapped _twice_?" 

Sara shrugged. "I don't know. Must lead a wild double-life."

Shane sighed long and loud, slumping in his chair. "God, I hate these cases. I actually have to think." A high-pitched _ping_ made him sit upright again, scooching his chair in closer to his desk. "Hey, he's replied."

"The Treasury guy?" She laughed, looking at him over her computer. "How long has this been going on now? Like, two months or something?"

He barely heard her. "Oh. _Oh_. Listen to this one."

She grinned. "Is it good?"

“Shane,” he began, with all the flair of someone about to read the opening for a play. “ _As per my last email_ , I’d advise getting an earlier flight. This building is _very_ busy and it wouldn’t be good for anyone if you land in in the middle of the day.  _I’ve attached earlier flight times?!_  I look forward to meeting you.  _Kind regards_ , Ryan Bergara?!” He stared at his computer in stunned silence for a moment, eyes wide. “Why you little-"

"Why is he talking about flight times?"

"I told him I operate from Chicago." He shrugged. "I don't want to have to be there super early."

She frowned. "Right."

"Alright. Okay.” The sound of typing grew fierce. Sara laughed in the background, shaking her head at his words. “ _Dearest_ Ryan. Thank you _so much_  for your helpful email. You are clearly a very generous soul. Unfortunately I didn’t get an attachment. I filtered out spam. I very much look forward to meeting you too. You seem so understanding and cooperative-”

* * *

 “-and I think we’ll get along like a house on fire. _Kindest_ and most _sincere_ regards, Shane Madej.” Ryan sat back in his seat for a moment, arms folded as he fumed in silence. Then he sat forwards. “What a tool."

"Huh?" Steven continued slowly spinning in the chair. "Is that the FBI guy again?"

"Yeah. _Detective_ Shane Madej." Ryan glowered at his computer screen, fingers tapping an irritated rhythm either side of the keyboard. "I don't know if I'm gonna like this guy. I know it's just emails, but man, I _really_ don't like him." He waved a hand helplessly. "I mean, he's not even in Chicago!"

"Huh? How do you know?"

"His profile says he works in the offices here! Literally a ten minute walk away!"

Steven was still grinning, pushing his chair around Ryan's office like it was a game. "You gonna reply?"

"Hell yeah I'm gonna reply." He gave his hands a quick shake before typing, like he was about to enter a ring. "Dear Mister Special Detective Agent Shane Madej. Here is a  _link_ for earlier flight times. Please take your time reading it. I-”

* * *

“-don’t need an immediate response?! Really, I don’t. The most regards anyone could possibly muster, Ryan Bergara.” He exhaled sharply. “Oh you bastard.” He rolled his sleeves up, eyes narrowed as he typed. “Most beloved Ryan Beyoncé, I sense some hostility on your part, a feeling I've detected for the majority of our correspondence, if I’m not mistaken. I hope it’s not  _too_ much of a disappointment when I tell you there isn’t a chance in hell that I’m getting an earlier flight. Don’t make me throw hands the second I step into the building. It would be very much a waste of time on your part. Even more regards than you previously gave, Shane Madej.”

The reply was almost instant.

 _Shane, I won’t not fuck you the fuck up. My office is the third on the left when you come in the East Wing, or I could meet you outside if that would be more convenient. Ryan_.

Sara blinked. "He said what?!"

"He said he wants to fight me!" Shane laughed, slapping his desk. "Oh, the little nerd. I can't _believe_ this."

 _Ryan, your office should be fine. Expect me around half nine; I’m getting the earliest flight after all. Thanks for helping in organizing your own ass-whooping. I look forward to it. Sincerely, Shane I’m-six-four-and-not-afraid-to-use-it Madej_.

...

_I guarantee I could snap you in half like uncooked spaghetti._

_..._

_Money where your mouth is, B. See you Thursday. XXX_

* * *

Ryan jumped in his seat as the door to his office suddenly banged open, hitting off the wall with the force of the push. He got to his feet as a very tall and generally just very big man strode into the office, right up to the desk, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Ryan stared at him, already knowing full well who it was. The cocky attitude was just as evident face-to-face as it was through email, and the badge on his belt was shining bright for all to see. 

“You Ryan Berocca?”

“No,” replied Ryan dryly. “He’s down the hall.”

“C’mon. Come at me. Let’s fucking rumble.” 

“You’re three hours late.” Ryan pointed at the clock on the wall. “It’s half twelve. Idiot.”

“And what?” Shane spread his arms, an open challenge. “You don’t have time to fight me now?”

“Oh you _wish_.” Ryan circled the desk, hands on his hips. “Just let me cancel some stuff first.”

“Oh, of course. Take your time, dearest Ryan.” But really, Shane was beginning to doubt himself just a little bit. This Ryan Bergara wasn't exactly the little nerd he had been expecting. 

The shorter man raised a hand to pick up the phone on his desk. But the hand swiftly abandoned said phone, whipping right back around to give Shane a right smack across the face. The sound echoed.

“Ow! You little-” Shane retaliated instantly, grabbing Ryan in a messy headlock, struggling to hold him, the two of them staggering. “Fuck you! Fuck you, asshole!”

“Get off me!” Ryan reached up blindly, taking a fistful of Shane’s thick hair, yanking his head back. “Fight me like a fucking man, Madej!”

“Oh, as opposed to a woman, you-”

“As opposed to a fucking child!” 

“HEY!” A woman stumbled into the room, breathless. “Shane, what the fuck are you doing?”

He instantly let Ryan go, eyes wide. “I, uh- OOF!” His sentence was swiftly ended as a solid right hook forced the air from his lungs, sending him stumbling against the desk. “Sh- Shit, I- Fuck me.”

“Hey, what the hell?!” The woman stood between him and Ryan, a glare on her face as she watched the latter. “What’s going on here? What the fuck is happening?”

Ryan stood with his hands on his hips, panting for breath. His hair was ruffled, his tie awry. "I was just putting my money where my mouth is. As requested."

"See this?" Shane reached over the woman's shoulder, badge in hand. "This says Federal Bureau of Investigation, asshole. Which means I'm better than you."

"Oh, let me see?" Ryan snatched it, turning and flinging it straight out the door into the hallway. It bounced off the wall. "Oh, whoops! My hand slipped!"

"C'mere, you fucking-"

"Shane, get the hell back!" The woman struggled to push back what Ryan presumed was her partner. "Jesus, what the fuck happened in the five minutes we've been here that has you throwing down, you idiot?"

"He started it!"

"What?! Bullshit!" Ryan started forwards, pausing as his own coworker poked their head in the door. "Oh, hey Steven."

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Steven lifted up a badge. "Whose is this?"

"That is mine." Shane swiped it from his hand, keeping his glare fixed on Ryan's as he shoved it back onto his belt. "Alright, let's get something straight here. I'm now running this thing. And-"

"Uh, no the fuck you're not." 

"Uh, yes the fuck I am." Shane stood with his hands on his hips, an eyebrow raised at the shorter man. "It was decided."

Ryan blinked. "By who?"

"By me, dickwad."

"Well I veto it."

"You _veto_ it?"

Ryan shrugged, hands on his hips. "I'm the one who works in the Treasury Department. As a Treasury analyst. I know more than you do."

"You don't know dick about shit."

"Shane, he actually does." Sara raised an eyebrow at him. "You were briefed on all this."

"Shh." Shane gave her a disapproving glare before stepping around her, facing the shorter man directly. "Listen. And listen good. I-"

"Alright boys and girls." A man of about fifty stepped into the room, a pile of documents in his arms. He dumped them right into Ryan's, seemingly oblivious to the hostile air in the room. "This is all we have on Morgan's last known contacts. Your desks are set up, and-"

"Woah woah woah." Shane waved a hand for silence. "Who are you? I was just about to make a very harsh and intimidating speech to assert my dominance."

The man blinked at him, readjusting his glasses. "I'm the Treasury director for this branch. C.C. Tinsley. And I'm guessing you are Shane Madej and Sara Rubin?"

"Oh." Shane stood with a grimace on his face, staring at him. "Yup. Sorry about my, uh, tone."

"Mm." Tinsley nodded for them to follow him. "Come on. I'll show you to your desks."

So they followed him through various busy rooms, all giant and shiny and cavernous. Shane tried not to show how impressed he was. For some reason, he didn't want to give Ryan the satisfaction. 

"This is the Terrorism and Financial Intelligence office." Tinsley lead them across the bustling room, through desks upon desks upon desks, striding with a purpose. "And this little corner here is your new, uh, office."

Ryan frowned at it, not exactly approving. It was a hell of a downgrade from his original office, but he had to have Shane nearby for their necessary and frequent cooperation. He closed his eyes at the thought. Shane himself wandered further into the small room, hands on his hips. It wasn't _quite_ an office. There was no door, and the walls were glass. Their two desks were shaped like an L in front of the window. Shane chucked his keys and phone down onto the one nearest the window.

"I'm getting this one."

"Hey, no, not fair." Ryan moved in after him, dumping the files in his arms down on the desk as he glared at the other man, who was now leisurely stretched out in the chair. "That one has the best lighting."

"Oh, does it? I didn't notice."

"Flip a coin," suggested Steven, standing in the doorway. 

"Alright." Shane took a nickel from his pocket, raising an eyebrow at Ryan. "Tails I win, heads you lose."

"Alright. Hey, wait, no-"

Shane deftly flipped it, snatching it from the air and slapping it onto the back of his hand. "Oh, look at that. Heads."

"That doesn't count!" Ryan turned to Tinsley with wide eyes, pleading. "Come on, this isn't fair!"

"Well I don't even want to be here, Bergara," replied Shane moodily. "I think a few, uh, phone calls could've done us perfectly."

"You two are going to sit together," said the director firmly, stepping into the room. The two men grew quiet. "You're going to eat together. You're going to go to whatever future crime scenes together. You're going to goddamn sleep together if I tell you to. Enough of this petty crap. Got it?"

 

Shane stared at him, an eyebrow raised. "Was that last bit sexual or not? Because that really makes an impact on my answer, and I-"

"Why do I have to go to the crime scenes?" asked Ryan, shoulders slumped as he moved to the less-well-lit desk. 

"You might spot something Madej won't."

Shane snorted as he reached over to take a random bundle of files off the top of the pile, ignoring Ryan's indignant glare. "Yeah, I _highly_ doubt that."

"You better watch your mouth around here, Detective. I know you're from a different department, but while you're here you're under my rules. Okay?"

Shane threw him a moody scowl, seeing Sara give him a warning look in the background. "Fine."

Ryan waited for the director to leave, taking Sara and Steven with him, before turning to the disgruntled Shane with a grin on his face. "Aw. Someone got a telling off."

Shane picked up a pen, holding it out towards him. "See this?"

"Yeah, I see it."

"This is gonna go right through your eye if you keeping talking shit." 

Ryan raised his eyebrows, going back to his work. "Don't make me tell Tinsley on you. He might give you a scolding again."

"Yeah. Figures you'd be a snitch." Shane held the pen like a dart, one eye closed as he took aim. He pretended to throw it, all intense focus, despite the flat look on Ryan's face. "Bitch."

Ryan looked away. Shane went ahead and actually did throw the pen. And to his surprise, Ryan raised a flippant hand, knocking it right out of the air without even looking. Shane raised his eyebrows at this in badly-disguised approval. 

"Well. Some reflexes you got there."

 Ryan didn't look away from his computer as he replied. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You pick them up from all the action that happens around here?"

"Mm." Ryan sat back, giving him a level look. "Hey, how was your, uh, flight?"

Shane couldn't stop the dry smile from spreading across his face, raising his mug. "Spectacular."

"Funny. I didn't know they do flights from 935 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington D.C. to 1500 Pennsylvania Avenue. Also in Washington D.C."

"Oh, they do all sorts of stuff nowadays." Shane watched his face as the other man went back to his computer with barely-hidden irritation. "You were checking up on me, hm?"

"Well your emails gave me the impression that you were someone who'd have to be checked up on." Ryan threw him a sidelong look, haughtily disapproving. "Regularly."

"How about you keep your nose out of my business, yeah?" Shane sat forwards, rolling his shoulders before he finally turned on his own computer. "Might make a bad start remotely better."

"I think that responsibility lies with you."

Shane raised an eyebrow at this. "How long have you worked for the Treasury?"

"Five years."

"And you still have a personality." Shane shrugged, watching his own screen now. "I'll admit, that's impressive."

"Thanks. Your opinion is  _very_ important to me." He sat back, spinning in his chair slightly. "You were briefed on this, right?"

"Mm."

"Good. Because I don't have time to be holding your hand through this."

Shane laughed at this, not exactly amused. "Well, aren't you a charmer."

"Right back at you."

And that seemed to be it for the next hour or so. Shane quickly grew bored, impatient. This office was just as loud as his old one, but not for the same reason. There was no laughing, or gossiping, or shouting. Just rustling pages and phones ringing constantly. He kicked a foot up on his desk, seeing Ryan close his eyes.

"Where's the break room and stuff?" Shane absent-mindedly twirled the pen in his fingers, spinning his chair back and forth. "Or do you robots not need sustenance?"

Ryan threw him a flat look. "Use your incredible detective skills to find it."

"C'mon. Give me a tour or something." He waved a hand vaguely. "I felt like I was walking into the Ministry of Magic or some shit. Pretty sure I even saw two or three people mysteriously appear from fireplaces."

Ryan took a deep breath, folding his arms across his chest as he let it out slowly. "Fine. Fine, I'll give you a tour. If you promise to shut the hell up afterwards."

"Yeah, we'll see." Shane got to his feet, following the shorter man out the door. "What about that tunnel that leads from here to the White House? Is that real?"

"Yeah. It's real. There's literally a Wikipedia page on it."

Shane grinned at this. “The Tunnel of Love, huh?”

Ryan threw him a flat look. “That’s just a rumor.”

“Bullshit. It’s definitely true.” Shane followed him down the corridor, taking his time about it, studying the photos on the wall. “If I was working all day, and had the option to smuggle in a few of my, uh,  _paramours_ into the office, I’d jump on that.”

“I’m not even surprised.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

Ryan half-turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “It’s guarded. Day and night.”

Shane grinned. “So you  _would_.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, continuing on. “And how many ‘paramours’ do you have, huh? An extensive list?”

“Just attach a revolving door to the front of this building, and we’re good to go.”

“Jesus.” Ryan gestured at a room they passed. "There's the break room. Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

"And if you keep going that way, it leads to the South Wing. Which is where you'll find the Cash Room, which you don't need to know. And the West Wing has the vaults."

Shane raised his eyebrows at this in genuine interest. "The burglar-proof ones?"

"Duh."

"Designed by Isaiah Rogers, right? Drill-proof."

Ryan threw a puzzled look back at him. "You into your history, hm?"

"A bit." 

"Nerd." 

Shane did a double-take, blinking rapidly as the shorter man stepped around him, continuing back towards the offices. "Wait, what? What did you say?"

"I called you a nerd." Ryan could see Tinsley hurrying down the corridor towards them, his tie flapping he was going so fast. "Shut up. Something's wrong."

"Bergara." Tinsley spoke around his panted breaths. "Ruth called. Ruth Morgan."

"Shit. Charles' wife?"

"Yes, that's her. She's ready to talk."

"Right. Well that's a job for this bozo." Ryan turned around, sighing sharply, hearing Tinsley pace off down the corridor. He always paced. "Madej, are you- Did you even listen to that?"

Shane was still standing a few feet away, observing the beautiful neoclassical architecture, the carved swirls of marble on the ceiling. "Mm. Yeah. Loved it."

Ryan rested a hand over his eyes, taking a calming breath. "Just- Just come on. Let's see what's going on." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/CKdUYzerLXI
> 
> this is the Mood for this fic, and is also just a total fucking BOP get out
> 
> also i told myself id hold off on writing another fic but i cant HELP IT i already have five chapters for this fic done and ??? oops


	2. Wishful Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane is three hours late to work. But he also stays late. Both instances irritate Ryan considerably.

"Look. When we arrive, I'm doing the talking."

Ryan didn't look away from the road, gaze flat. "I get the feeling that you always do the talking. No matter what situation."

"Bingo." Shane was fumbling in his pocket, distracted. "I don't get why you have to come with me. Sara would've made way more sense."

"I have to do what Tinsley says. And so do you."

"Pff." Shane finally got his phone out, searching between the seats now. "You ever wonder how I always arrive to crime scenes so confident and sexy?"

"I've literally never seen you arrive to a crime scene. We only met this morning."

“Well I’ll tell you why,” continued Shane, plugging his phone in. “It’s because I listen to one song and one song only on my way to a crime scene. And it’s Partition by Beyoncé.”

“Oh my God.” Ryan felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, quickly answering once he saw who it was. “Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“Yeah, we're gonna send Steven and the Rubin woman down too-”

“Shane, lower that down,” hissed Ryan, throwing him a sidelong glare.

“Driver roll up the partition FAST. Over there I swear I saw them cameras FLASH.”

“Shane, fucking-”

“Apparently the wife is a bit distraught. Understandably. And-”

“Handprints and footprints on my GLASS! HANDPRINTS AND GOOD GRIPS ALL ON MY _ASS_!”

“Shane, shut the fuck up!”

“Ryan, what- Where are you?”

“Just in the car! I-”

“HE LIKES TO CALL ME PEACHES WHEN WE GET THIS NASTY!”

“Just give me a second.” He pressed his phone against his chest to try and prevent his words being too obvious to Tinsley. “Shane, I am going to strangle you with your own fucking tie if you-”

“WOAH THERE DADDY DADDY NOW YOU RIPPED MY FUR, WOAH BABY B-BABY SWEATING ON MY HURR, TOOK-”

Ryan yanked the AUX cord into the air, Shane’s phone with it, sending the phone flying into the backseat. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Hey what the fuck!” Shane turned in his seat to try and locate his phone, which was still quietly playing the song. “Don’t ruin my vibe just because you can’t handle it.”

“Sorry boss,” said Ryan, letting his glare linger on the other man as he spoke. “Just a bit of bad reception my end. What’s up?”

"Are you on your way there?"

"Yeah. Just five minutes away."

"Right, well, keep me updated. And keep an eye out for any unidentified cars, alright?"

"Yup, got it." 

Shane was scowling at the endless leafy roads ahead, wiping his phone screen with his sleeve. "You are no fun at all, you know that?"

"Okay, _first_ of all," began Ryan, turning in his seat to start counting off his grievances on his fingers. "I was on the phone to my damn boss. Second of all, you were screaming in my ear. And third of all, we're meant to be working! So stop being an ass, dude!"

"I'm not being an ass," hissed Shane, chucking his phone onto the dashboard. "You're just raining on my parade because you have no sense of humor."

Ryan sighed long and loud, starting the engine again. "Do you understand that we're literally on our way to talk to a woman whose husband is currently missing?"

"I've been to more situations like this than you'll ever be, Bergara." He arched an eyebrow at him as the car rumbled forwards again. "Something funny about that?"

Ryan shook his head, eyebrows raised. "Oh, no. Not at all."

"Well you're smiling."

"How dare I." He squinted at the houses, the car slowing. "Fifty-three, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, sure," came the flippant reply.

Ryan fixed him with a glare. Shane glared back. Then the engine cut, and they both got out on their respective sides. Shane circled the car to the pavement, joining the shorter man.

"Right, bud. Listen up." He pointed right in Ryan's face. "You stay quiet, and let me do my thing. I'll ask if I want your opinion."

Ryan waved his finger away. "Fine. I guess."

He watched as the taller man shrugged off his suit jacket, folding it over his arm as he headed up the driveway. Ryan followed, tucking his Treasury ID into his pocket. Just in case. He followed behind the taller man, using the steps to the porch, which Shane himself decided to skip. Ryan scowled at him. Despite the seemingly harmless profile he'd been shown, this Shane Madej was irritatingly sharp, and wasn't afraid to show it. Especially when it came to words. Ryan allowed him to do the knocking. Except it wasn't knocking. It was a rapid thumping with the side of his fist, hard enough to rattle the door on its hinges.

"FBI, open up!" 

Ryan jumped at the shout, giving him a shove. "What the fuck, Madej? This isn't a goddamn drug bust!"

Shane shrugged. "Yeah, but it gets them to the door quicker."

"That _has_ to be against protocol."

"Oh, you have no idea."

The door opened, revealing a pale-faced wide-eyed woman and two young children behind her. Shane pulled a face at the sight of the kids. Oops.

"Ryan." The woman smiled at him, a weak one. "I'm glad to see you."

He shook her hand warmly, ignoring Shane's unimpressed sniff. "Sorry I haven't come by sooner. It's hectic."

"I'd say it is." She turned her dark eyes to Shane, a hand automatically drifting to the head of one of her children. "And who's this?"

"This is-"

"My name's Shane," he replied, giving Ryan a scowl. "I was assigned to help on the case this morning. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

She squinted at him. "This morning, hm?"

Shane wasn't quite sure how to react to this. She wasn't exactly following the set dialogue that usually accompanied the question. He saw Ryan give her a meaningful look, eyebrows raised. She immediately stepped aside, waving them in. Shane paused for a moment, just a bit suspicious. But he waved it aside, and in he went. 

"Do you two know each other?" he asked, feeling something clinging to his leg. He looked down. A child. "Uh, hi."

"Yeah, Ryan and Chuck used to work together sometimes," replied Ruth, her voice wavering slightly at the second name. She led them to the kitchen, a cozy space, all wooden surfaces and natural light. "I- Oh, Betsy!"

Ryan turned to see what had her sounding so weary. Shane was entering the kitchen, the youngest girl in his arms. She was too busy giving his beard a tug to notice her mother telling her to stop.

"No, it's fine," said Shane, wincing a bit at another tug. "I don't mind."

Ruth swallowed. "She used to do that to Chuck."

Shane went still, despite the continued yanking on his beard. He shared a look with Ryan, who appeared just as awkward, his hands on his hips. 

"I'm sorry," said Ruth quickly, blinking. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's okay." Shane inhaled sharply as the little hand found his hair, giving it a right pull. "Ow, owowowow."

"Floofy."

"Yeah, it's a bit floofy."

Ryan tore his gaze away, looking back to Ruth. "No contact, hm?"

"Nothing." She sat down. Well, it was more of a collapse into the chair. "I- Emily, not now. I can't play with you right now. Go to Ryan."

Ryan knelt down, his arms out to her. She immediately ran over, taking hold of his face in her little hands, pinching his cheeks. He smiled at her. He liked kids. He got on well with them. Better than certain adults, anyway. And speaking of, Shane was busy not doing his job at all in any way, bouncing the dark-haired toddler as he distractedly wandered across the kitchen, engaged in a very serious discussion about why her favorite color was blue. So much for he'd do all the talking.

"Why didn't you call the cops before?" asked Ryan quietly, low enough so that Shane couldn't hear.

"He told me not to."

"Alright." Ryan allowed the little girl to continue squishing his face like Play-Doh. "And she rang again?"

"Yeah. She rang again."

"Who rang again?" asked Shane very loudly indeed, meandering back over towards them. "What's with all the hush-hush, hm?"

"We're not being hush-hush," muttered Ryan. "You're being loud."

Shane hummed his disapproval, finally putting the toddler down, ignoring her grasping hands. "Who rang again?"

"This woman called me a few days ago," explained Ruth, after a hesitant glance at Ryan. "Said that Chuck was fine."

"Well that's good." Shane looked from one to the other, an eyebrow raised. "Right?"

"Uh, apart from the fact she could be lying," said Ryan impatiently, straightening back up again. "Either way, it still means he's kidnapped, and in someone else's hands."

"Well at least that confirms the theory. Instead of it just being a guess." Shane shook his head, tutting. "Can't stand that."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. "It was an educated guess."

"I'm guessing that you're the guesser."

"Shut up." Ryan turned back to Ruth, pointedly ignoring the taller man. "What did the woman say, exactly?"

"I wrote it down." Ruth got to her feet, moving to the counter as she sifted through the receipts there. "I wrote it on one of these. She said something really weird. She- Yeah, here it is."

Ryan reached for the piece of paper. Shane's hand got there first, the two of them sharing their hundredth glare that day. He kept the paper tilted just so that the shorter man couldn't read it without standing on his tiptoes. He muttered the words to himself.

"Chuck is alright. Ecclesiastics twelve, one through eight." Shane frowned. "What's Ecclesiastes?"

"From the Bible." Ruth sat down, staring at the note despite the fact she couldn't read a word from where she was. "I don't know what it means. The verse doesn't make sense, it doesn't seem relevant."

"Hm. Does it not." Shane looked at her. "Mind if I borrow this?"

"Of course."

He pocketed the piece of paper, wandering along the kitchen counter as he searched for anything out of the ordinary. If one half of a couple goes missing, it does tend to be the other half who perpetrated it. And once again, he heard murmurings. He turned with a glower on his face, watching Ryan and Ruth whispering to each other. He caught Ryan's eye, the other man straightening up, not looking away. Shane came over, looking from one to the other, openly suspicious. He felt something brush past his leg, looking down to see the little blonde girl go straight to Ryan, hands up.

"Uncle Ryan, pick up!"

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Uncle Ryan, hm?"

Ryan didn't reply, a glare on his face as he did what the toddler wanted. He turned back to Ruth. "Is there anything else to tell us?"

She shook her head, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. "No. Not yet. But I'll tell you when there is."

They said their goodbyes. Shane waited for Ryan to leave first; no more mutterings, he'd decided. He followed the shorter man to the car, throwing a glance back over his shoulder just in time to see Ruth hurriedly shut the door over. He waited at the passenger door for Ryan to get his keys. 

"Uncle Ryan." Shane inclined his head. "You know the family well, hm?"

"Well enough."

"Or just Ruth?"

Ryan raised his head at this, not looking at all impressed. "I worked with Chuck. We were friends."

"Mm. Right."

They sat into the car simultaneously, the air thick. Shane tossed his suit jacket into the back seat, his gaze meeting Ryan's. How could it not? Their faces were inches apart. Shane sat back, loosening his tie as he waited for the engine to start. It didn't. 

"Just spit it out."

Shane looked at him, an eyebrow arched. "Excuse me?"

"You want to say something." Ryan shoved the keys into the ignition. "So say it."

Shane didn't respond for a moment. "What were you two so secretive about, huh? Bit strange that you wouldn't involve me."

"I was asking her if she felt like she was in danger."

"And what was her response?" Shane distractedly rolled down the window as he spoke, resting his arm on it. "Oh, I feel so vulnerable! Please Ryan, whisk me away to safety in your big strong arms!"

"Shut the fuck up." Ryan gripped the steering wheel despite the fact they weren't moving yet, looking very ticked off indeed. "I know what you're implying here, and the answer is no, I'm not having a fucking affair with her."

"Are you sure? Husband goes missing, then-"

"I am _so_ sure," interrupted Ryan, narrowing his eyes at the road in a bitterly amused manner. "And you want to know why I'm so undeniably certain that I'm not having an affair with my friend's wife?"

"Yeah, sure. Lay it on me."

"Because I'm gay, you idiot."

Shane already had his mouth open to respond. He swiftly shut it. "Well, oops. I suppose that is a certainty then."

"Yeah. No shit."

Shane stared at him. Ryan stared back. The engine revved to life. They finally pulled away from the house. Shane pressed his clenched fist against his mouth as they drove, feeling like a whole lot of an idiot. He unclenched his fist, letting his hand slip around the back of his neck, giving it a rub. And for once, he thought before he spoke.

"Sorry for, uh, pressuring you there. I guess."

Ryan spared him a sidelong look. "It's alright. It's not a secret anyway."

"Okay. Cool." Another silence. "But then why the hell don't you like Partition?"

Ryan rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation. "I do. I just don't like it when it's destroying my eardrums."

"That's when it's best, Ryan!"

"Don't play it. Don't fucking play it."

Shane put his phone back in his pocket, letting go of the AUX cord. "Fine. Jeez."

* * *

"He's not stupid." Ryan was stirring his coffee intensely, eyes narrowed. "He's actually smart. He just doesn't give a fuck about anything."

"But he-"

"I mean, he was meant to come in today," said Ryan in open frustration, pausing in his stirring to glare at the wall. "Because we were meant to visit the school where Chuck's daughters go. Which is really important, because before Chuck went missing he told the principal not to let anyone else pick up the girls. The principal probably knows something. And Shane's just not here! He just didn't turn up!"

Jazzmyne pulled a face. "Yeah, that's a bit shit. But can't you just go yourself?"

"No. I can't." Ryan looked over his shoulder at her, lips pressed together in a line. "Like, I could. But not this soon. I need to have a cop with me for legitimacy and all that."

"Call him, dude." Steven came into the break room, a splash of tea on his shirt. "Also, I spilled like, my entire mug out there. So yeah, be careful."

"You idiot," muttered Jazzmyne, already back at her magazine. 

"I tried calling him." Ryan leaned back against the counter, looking from one to the other. "Not to sound dramatic, but he can't be tamed. He just does what he wants."

"But you get along, right?"

"Uh, no. Not really."

"You don't get along _well_ ," specified Steven, tossing his mug into the sink with a clatter. "But you get along. I've heard your conversations. You bounce off each other."

"The only thing I'll bounce off him is my fist." The sound of loud whistling made them pause, Ryan turning to look at the door. "Son of a bitch."

Shane wandered right past the doorway, spinning his keys around a long finger as he swanned into work roughly three hours late. He checked his phone, pulling a face at the four missed calls from Ryan. Yeah, maybe he was going to be in a bit of trouble. He poked his head into the door of the offices, seeing their little space across the bustling desks. It was empty. Okay, good, that's good. He could just sit down, and-

"Hey, asshole."

He turned to look down at Ryan, who was glaring right up at him. "Heyyyyy."

"Don't _heyyyyy_ me." Ryan swiftly cornered him against the wall, holding his mug in both hands to stop his fists from clenching. "It's midday. You were meant to be here at nine this morning, you ass."

Shane leaned back against the wall, a dubious eyebrow raised at the shorter man's tone. "Last time I checked, you're not my boss."

"You're fucking lucky I'm not your boss. I would've fired you two seconds after you stepped into the building."

"I'd suggest we don't throw wishful thinking around here right now. One of us - not me - _will_ cry."

Ryan shuffled sideways to stop the taller man from heading into the offices. "Shane. You've been here two weeks. You need to start actually helping me."

"I am absolutely helping you." Shane tapped his satchel, smiling slyly. "I actually did something beneficial this morning."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at the bag. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He pulled out a book, a large, dusty, leather-bound one. He held it beside his smiling face. "I went down to the library, and fished out the enigmatic Ecclesiastes. So save your nagging for later, yeah?"

Ryan followed him into the offices, speaking above the general noise. "It doesn't take three hours to take a book out from the library, Shane."

"Whatever." He dumped the book down on his desk, the rest of the contents jumping. "Now shut up and come here."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at the order, taking a moody sip of coffee. "You could've just Googled it."

"This is cooler." He flipped through the thin pages, eyes skimming the tiny writing. "Yeah, here it is." He pushed the open book towards the other man. "Feast your eyes on that mysterious passage."

Ryan placed his mug aside, picking up the book, squinting at the writing. "Huh. Ominous."

"Extremely so. This is some Da Vinci shit." Shane dropped his bag off his shoulder, sitting down, watching the other man meander around the office as he read and re-read the passage. "Well? Thoughts?"

Ryan looked at him, eyebrows raised innocently. "Thoughts?"

"Yeah. Thoughts. Do you have them?"

"My thoughts don't really matter." Ryan passed the book back over, giving his jaw a distracted scratch. "I-"

"I think your thoughts matter." Shane placed the book aside, resting his head in his hand as he looked at him expectantly. "I know it's me and Sara doing the detective stuff, but I'm not gonna pass up on any useful insights. Even from you."

"Aw, thank you. For your consideration." Ryan returned the dry smile, sitting at his own desk. "But I actually don't have any thoughts on it. I just thought it was creepy."

"That's a thought."

"Shut up." Ryan let the sound of typing fill up the silence.

Shane gave him a sidelong glance as he leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk, open book resting on his legs. "Who do you think the Teacher is?"

"Hm?"

"Well, it's just a jumping-off point, but it seems that there's certain characters in this." Shane tapped the suspected characters as he read them. "The Creator. The keepers of the house. The strong men. The mourners. And the Teacher, who says everything is meaningless." 

Ryan stared at him. Then he got to his feet, circling behind Shane's chair, reading the book over his shoulder. "Huh. Yeah, I suppose. I wouldn't have taken it so literally. I would've considered the whole overarching meaning, you know?"

Shane rolled his eyes. "So you _did_ have thoughts."

"Fine, yeah. I had thoughts." Ryan straightened back up again, giving the man's head a light smack as he moved back to his own desk, ignoring the muttered curse. "Now stop distracting me."

* * *

The Treasury building was beautiful during the day. It was straight up mysterious at night. Ryan immediately understood where Shane got his Ministry of Magic reference from. He was alone in the foyer, footsteps ringing out. Tinsley would probably be in his office. He had to meet him, tell him the new view Shane had had. The reason he had to do this at night was to prevent any prying eyes from prying too efficiently. He wove through the sprawling halls, feeling just a bit small. And alone. Terribly, terribly alone.

Ryan's head snapped up, his eyes wide. He could hear screaming. He could hear a woman screaming erratically, from somewhere down the halls. He picked up the pace, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest, until he realized what he was actually hearing. People being attacked don't tend to scream ' _Yes! Oh yes! Fuck me!'_ at the top of their lungs. And funnily enough, he knew instantly what was going on.

He headed right for their offices, fists clenched by his sides as he muttered under his breath. He was so intent on getting there that he didn't even notice Steven's spilled tea, still lying in a puddle on the ground. He fell flat on his back with a yell. The screaming stop.

There was a flurry of movement, of chairs and desks screeching. Ryan had just gotten back to his feet, rubbing his shoulder when Shane skidded into the doorway, red-faced and wild-haired. He stared at Ryan, both of them trying and failing to hide their panted breaths. Shane didn't move from the doorway.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Yeah. Hi." Shane still stood in the doorway, a hand resting either side. His shirt was pulled askew at the top, his tie loose around his open collar. "How are you. How's it going."

"Fine." Ryan stood right in front of him, still rubbing his shoulder. "Someone being murdered or something?"

"Nope, it's all good." Shane glanced behind him, quickly moving to block Ryan from doing the same. "What has you in so late, huh?"

"I- Actually, none of your business." Ryan waited, beginning to get a bit impatient. "Look, I don't care what you-"

A woman who Ryan had never seen before suddenly appeared around Shane, clearing her throat as she slipped past him into the hallway. Ryan stared blankly at her for a long moment before realizing she'd moved on and he was staring at nothing. He turned to watch her continue on down the corridor, subtly trying to slip her heels back on. At least the look on Shane's face was a little embarrassed. Definitely not ashamed, however. He grinned.

"Are you fucking serious." The question was flat, Ryan's glare even more so. "Did you have sex in the fucking office."

"No! No." A pause. "Not full sex. Just- A bit. Until you came along, anyway."

"Where." Ryan shoved past him, striding right towards their little space, hearing the taller man hurrying behind him. "I swear to God, if you even touched my desk-"

"Accidentally! I accidentally touched it."

Ryan stood in the doorway, eyes shut as he took a long, deep breath. "Clean it. With disinfectant. Right now."

"Oh come on, man." Shane laughed, despite the furious look on the shorter man's face. "I didn't fucking slobber everywhere. It's _fine_."

"Was that strange woman's bare ass on my desk, yes or no."

Shane tilted his head aside, squinting at him as he wondered whether or not to lie. "...A little bit?"

"Jesus fucking- Go." Ryan gave him a shove, pointing towards the far door. "Disinfectant's in the bathroom. Go. _Now_. And down the bottle when you're done."

" _Fine_." Shane waved a dismissive hand at him, strolling off across the office. "First you cockblock me and now you're making me clean? This place sucks."

Ryan stood with his hands on his hips, teeth gritted. He was pissed. He was really pissed. Even though he didn't have much right to be. Everyone in the damn building had probably gotten down and dirty somewhere in the place at least once. The building was a giant, full of nooks and crannies and dark filing rooms and hidden storage closets. Ryan himself may or may not have found himself in a few with his ex once or twice. But it was just like that; the Treasury Department was occasionally a very, very boring place to work. Had to liven it up a bit. Yet the thought of Shane and that woman going at it just had his blood boiling. He scowled at his reflection in the glass. 

"Jesus, what's the face for?" Shane was back in the office, sleeves rolled up more firmly now, spray bottle in one hand and cloth in the other. "It's not that big of a deal, Bergara. Relax."

"Just- Just don't have sex on my desk ever again, okay?"

"Fine. Okay." Shane half-heartedly began cleaning the desk, his eyes drifting up to Ryan's. There was a silence. "What are you doing in so late, anyway?"

Ryan watched him, arms folded across his chest. "To do actual work. Unlike you."

"Right." Shane went back to his less-than-enthusiastic cleaning, chock full of attitude. "No fun zone. I get it."

Ryan scowled at him, leaning back against the glass, arms still folded stiffly. And he found his gaze drifting. Drifting down Shane's body, lingering on the bit of chest that was still visible behind his half-buttoned shirt, to his shoulders, his arms, the cocky tilt of his hips. The detective was a big man, but Ryan came to notice that it wasn't just regarding his height. He didn't seem like the type of guy who'd rush to the gym, but he was big anyway. Oh, maybe it was his proportions that gave him the lanky look, but Ryan saw that he really was anything but. And really, no one had the right to look quite so good while looking so unkempt. Shane raised his head, his thick hair bouncing with the movement. Ryan raised his eyebrows expectantly, mentally yanking himself out of his unwelcome thoughts.

Shane straightened up. He waved the hand holding the cloth towards his desk. "You can sit at my desk. Until I'm done here."

Ryan gave it a sidelong glance. "I'll pass."

"We didn't do anything there, Ryan."

"Oh, you were discussing the weather, were you?"

Shane failed to stifle his smile. "Mm. And the forecast was wet and wild, baby."

Ryan buried his face in his hands, physically restraining himself from screaming. "Just go. Get out."

"Fab. See ya."

Shane tossed the cloth and spray bottle onto the desk, sauntering right out the door and across the office without looking back once. Ryan pressed his lips together in a firm line, gaze lowered pensively. Then he left to find Tinsley.


	3. Exes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's ex wanders onto the scene. Shane get lightly penciled into Ryan's good books.

"Oh my God, _catch_ it, Shane."

"I did! Almost. A bit."

Ryan caught the ball of rubberbands Shane had built up over the past few weeks as it was thrown back at him. "Is there anything in this world you don't absolutely suck at?"

"Uh, yeah. It's called being hilarious and handsome and humble." Shane teetered dangerously in his chair as he snatched the ball out of the air, grabbing onto his desk to steady himself. "You're doing that on purpose! Throw it _at_ me, not _around_ me."

"I'm throwing it perfectly normally."

"Oh yeah, me too." Shane fired the ball at him as hard as he could, not quite intending for it to go straight at the other man's face. "Oh shit-"

Ryan's hand flew up, catching it before it hit his face, wincing as the impact stung his hand. "Jesus Christ, Shane! The fuck was that?"

Shane stared at him, still leaning forwards slightly, arm resting on his leg from the momentum of his throw. "How the hell did you catch that?"

Ryan didn't reply for a moment, tossing the ball lightly in his hand. "I don't know. Luck, I guess."

"Well fuck me, Ryan. That was some insanely hand-eye coordinated luck."

Ryan rolled his eyes, tossing the ball back to him as he turned back to his desk. "Whatever."

They went back to their respective work, for about twenty minutes or so. Shane raised his gaze from his desk as a man came right through their door without bothering to stop and knock. Not that there was a door to knock on. But everyone else knew to just use the glass instead. Shane leaned back in his chair, looking the newcomer up and down over his glasses. He saw the badge on the man’s belt, gold and blue. CIA. Shane frowned. The man looked back at him, appearing just a bit confused. They stared at each other until Ryan spoke. 

“Goldsworth.”

“Ah, there you are, Ryan.”

Shane looked from one to the other, noticing how Ryan had stood up at the man’s entrance. He didn’t stand up. Instead, he just pushed his glasses further up along his nose to get a better look at this guy; he was handsome, no doubt about it. Shane didn't like him. Dark curly hair, dark eyes, slightly-darker-than-olive skin. Shane _really_ didn’t like him. He had an effortless coolness about him, similar to Bond, or perhaps a Bond girl. Jesus, Shane practically hated him.

“How’s Chuck, hm?” The man smiled, a wry one. “Or how’s the investigation, anyway.”

Ryan shrugged, but he didn’t seem entirely relaxed. He seemed pretty uncomfortable indeed. “It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

"Yeah." Ryan swallowed. "Like, we have some more information."

"Yeah? About what?" The guy moved to Ryan's desk, picking up a stapled pile of paper, tossing it back down. Ryan clenched his jaw. "C'mon. How's the whole thing going?"

“It’s absolutely swell,” interrupted Shane, resting an arm along the back of his chair. “Mister…?”

“You don’t need to know,” replied the man dismissively, already turning back to the very on-edge Ryan.

Shane raised an eyebrow, speaking again before the guy could continue. “I have the right to know. A badge doesn’t replace ID, pal.”

“As if you’d know.”

Shane rolled his eyes as he took his own badge off his belt, chucking it onto the desk in front of him. He saw the man lean forwards slightly to look at it. “I do know.”

“FBI?”

“Well I’d hope that if you’re in the CIA you can read, yet here we are.”

Ryan turned his head aside to stifle his smile, pressing his lips together in a line. The man looked from Ryan to Shane, his eyes narrowing. Shane smiled, head tilted expectantly.

“Goldsworth.”

“ _Goldsworth_ ,” repeated Shane in a leisurely sigh, getting to his feet. The other man was about the same height as Ryan. It was great. He extended a hand. “Madej. Lovely to meet you.”

The man reluctantly shook the hand, still looking a bit miffed. “Is it.”

“Not really, I guess.” Shane circled the desk to him, standing close enough so that the man had to tilt his head to look at his face. “Now, any questions in particular or are we done here?”

Goldsworth watched him, eyes narrowing. “I’m here to talk to Ryan.”

“Oh, he’s  _very_ busy right now. A busy little bee, aren’t you, Ry?”

Ryan slowly sat back down, looking from one to the other. “I guess I am. Right now.”

“See?” Shane turned back to face Goldsworth, still with an easy smile on his face. “But I’m sure I can answer any questions very efficiently.”

The man spoke slowly, as if to restrain his temper from showing. “I’m here to see how the investigation is progressing.”

“I told you already. It’s absolutely swell. Spectacular. Just gliding along seamlessly.” Shane clapped a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back towards the door. “In fact, I’d say it’s going  _so well_  that another of these visits would be entirely unnecessary. Wouldn’t you?”

Goldsworth stopped at the door, shrugging his hand off. “No. I wouldn’t. Madej.”

Shane paused for a second at how the other man said his name just a tad ominously. “Oh? Well then you can pop around tomorrow, and how about you come straight to me this time.”

Goldsworth looked at him for a long moment, and Shane had the feeling his face was being remembered very, very well indeed. Then the man looked at Ryan, who was watching the scene closely despite his hands typing away. Shane let the smile slip from his face as Goldsworth finally left. He stood in the doorway watching him go, eyes narrowed, brows knitted. Then he turned back to Ryan.

“Who the fuck was that?”

Ryan sighed heavily. “An ex.”

“A what? An ex?!” Shane looked back over his shoulder at where the man had disappeared. “Oscar Isaac’s doppelganger is your ex?!”

Ryan nodded, not looking away from his computer. “He comes by every now and then just to fuck with me. Because he can.” He lifted his gaze to meet Shane’s. “Or he could.”

Shane wandered in a small circle, one hand in his pocket, the other fidgeting by his side. Then he sat back down at his desk, feeling just a little miffed. 

“Thanks. By the way.”

Shane looked at him. “Hm?”

“For making him look like such a tool.” Ryan grinned. “Made my day. Maybe even my week.”

Shane smiled, feeling just a bit warm and fuzzy. “Glad I could help.”

A knock on the glass. Tinsley stuck his head in, bushy eyebrows raised at Ryan. Steven was visible hovering a few feet behind him.

"Ryan? A word?"

Ryan nodded, getting to his feet. "Yeah. Definitely."

Shane sat back in his chair, resting his fingers pensively across his mouth as he watched the three men whisper in a secretive huddle outside. Something wasn't right. He knew it wasn't right. For a Department who had an FBI agent assigned to help them, they didn't talk to him a lot. In fact, Ryan seemed ten times more preoccupied with work than Shane was, even though Shane had been given everything relevant on Morgan's activities leading up to his disappearance. Even Ruth Morgan had seemed reluctant to speak to him. Shane got to his feet, readjusting his glasses on his nose. Then he wandered around to Ryan's computer, staring at the screen. Just a blank Word document.

"No," he muttered to himself, a hand drifting towards the mouse. He could see multiple tabs open on the bottom of the screen. "No, that's not right."

"What the hell are you doing, dude?"

Shane glanced up to see Ryan in the doorway, looking just a bit irritated. "I'm just checking to see if we're on the same page here."

"Then ask me." Ryan came around to his side, bumping the taller man out of the way. "Don't look at my stuff."

"Our stuff." Shane stood beside him, a suspicious eyebrow raised. "What did Tinsley tell you?"

"Oh, nothing. Not important."

Shane gave a disapproving _tut_ , arms folded. "Right."

Ryan didn't move to type. He frowned up at him. "Do you mind not hovering ominously behind me while I work?"

Shane tilted his chin up. "I suppose."

"Cool."

"Great."

"Yeah," said Ryan pointedly, eyebrows raised. "Bye."

Shane reluctantly went back to his desk, sitting down, elbows resting on the arms, wrists draping off the ends as he blatantly watched Ryan. The other man threw him an unimpressed scowl as he started typing again. Shane narrowed his eyes. This went on for a few minutes.

"What?" Ryan took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing." Shane finally rolled his chair into his desk, tucking his sleeves more firmly around his elbows as he went back to his own computer, ready to look up every single website he'd seen in the reflection of Ryan's glasses. "Nothing at all."

* * *

Shane blocked him coming in the door. "I want you to come with me."

Ryan paused, his arms filled with files, Ecclesiastes visible on the bottom. A piece of toast was clenched between his teeth. "Hng?"

"To Ruth's. I want to go back." Shane took the files and the book from his arms, positively throwing them onto the desk. He heard Ryan shout around his toast as the pages toppled to the floor. "It's fine. We'll clean it up later."

"We meaning me," said Ryan moodily, letting the taller man sheepdog him back towards the door he'd just come in. "I'm going! Jesus!"

They hurried down the steps in front of the building, Shane pushing his shades on, Ryan stuffing his breakfast into his mouth. The place was still relatively empty; Ryan was actually surprised that Shane was in at all this early. The guy seemed wide awake too, strolling on ahead, tossing his keys in his hand. 

"Why do I have to come with?" asked Ryan, frowning at him. "And why do you want to go back?"

"So many questions." Shane smiled at him from across the car. "And I don't even know if there's answers yet."

Ryan tilted his head at this, one eye narrowed in perplexity. "Are you okay, Shane?"

"I'm great." Shane sat into the car, starting the engine as the other man did the same. He smiled at him again, a bright one. "I am so great. How are you?"

"Uh, I was better before you started acting so weird."

Shane pulled out of the parking lot, showing the security his ID on the way. "You ever been to Arizona?"

Ryan's head snapped up. He gave him a sidelong look. "Uh, no. Why?"

"Oh, just wondering." Shane hummed as he drove, a pleasant sound. "Lots of smuggling cities. Dodgy going-ons."

Ryan was staring at him. He could see it out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah. So I've heard."

"You ever heard of Tucson? Now that's a real smuggling route. Yeehaw."

"Are you drunk or something?" Ryan had his phone out, texting away. "You're acting crazy."

"I just think I've found some stuff. About ol' Chuck."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Did you know Chuck had his own escrow agency?"

A pause. "No. No, I, uh, no. I didn't."

"Well he did." _And I know you know he did_. Shane spared him a sidelong glance, seeing that the man was still texting hurriedly. "He was also maybe a witness in a state land fraud case involving a well known crime boss. He ever mention that?"

Ryan cleared his throat. "Nope. That's crazy."

"Banjo McClintock," said Shane slowly, thoughtfully. "Known smuggler of the ol' narcotics. Not a crime boss to cross."

Ryan looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "How did you find all this stuff?"

Shane smiled at him. "Just doing my job, little guy."

They barely talked for the rest of the drive. Ryan seemed anxious, checking his phone, glancing at Shane every few minutes. Shane sang along to the radio, tapping away on the steering wheel jovially. But when he pulled up to the Morgan's home, the car was gone. He frowned. Just his luck. But they went to the door anyway, Shane noticing how Ryan seemed much more at ease. Shane rang the doorbell. He rang it again. He went to do his _FBI open up_ trick, but Ryan physically prevented him from doing so. Then he stood, thinking.

“Stop standing like that.”

“Like what?”

Ryan paused before putting his hip out to one side, all cocky nonchalance. “Like this. It’s annoying.”

“I- What?! The way I stand annoys you?”

“Just stand up straight like a normal person!”

“I have a lot of leg, Ryan. I need to arrange them appropriately.” Shane turned back to face the door, already trying to hide his smile. “And if I do stand up straight, I can’t hear what you say to me.”

“Ha. Original.”

“Maybe we should invest in two tin cans and a piece of string, hm?” He mimed speaking into a can, an eyebrow raised. “Shane to Ryan; stop being a little bitch.”

“Ryan to Shane; I’m going to use this can to slit your throat.”

A pause.

“Shane to Ryan; unprofessional. I’m going straight to HR.”

Ryan swiped at the air between them, as if hitting the string aside, the two cans with it. “C'mon, dude. Focus.”

“She’s not home, Bergara.” He knocked on the door again, rapid, non-stop. “Hello? HELLO!”

“Fucking stop!” Ryan pulled his hands away from the door, rolling his eyes. “Jesus. You’re insufferable.”

“I have an idea. Let’s head back to the station, stop for a Taco Bell, and-”

“No, Shane!” The shorter man turned his head to glare up at him, the two of them walking back towards the car. “Stop screwing around, dude. This is a serious case.”

“It is for you.”

“Exactly.” Ryan yanked open the passenger door, still glaring at him. “And you are meant to be helping me. Remember?”

“Yeah. I remember.” Shane started the engine, placing his hand on the back of Ryan’s seat as he went to reverse. “You’re no fun, Bergara.”

Ryan went to reply, his eyes traveling down from Shane’s face to his stubbled jaw, and then down his neck. He had a nice neck. If that was a thing. A nice neck, and Ryan could easily see his collarbones due to his open collar. He was actually pretty attractive, in an unconventional sort of way. In his own way. Ryan's eyes drifted to the handle of the gun sticking out from Shane's side. The guy chose to wear one of the gun holsters that hung around your shoulders, and it was the one thing that made his presence in the office remotely bearable. He-

“Ryan?”

The shorter man blinked himself out of his stupor, realizing that the car hadn’t actually moved at all for the past minute or so. He lifted his wide eyes to meet Shane’s, seeing the raised eyebrow, the curiosity clear on his face. Ryan swiftly turned away, staring right out the window. The incident went undiscussed. Shane continued reversing. Ryan squinted in the side mirror, pushing his glasses up along his nose as he saw a car pull out further behind them. He turned in his seat, staring out the back window. Shane threw him a curious look, pausing with his mouth open for a moment as he quickly got just as distracted as Ryan had been two minutes ago. The guy had an enviously perfect profile, and Shane was too busy staring at the man's full lips to notice the alarmed look in his eyes. Ryan suddenly turned his head to look at him, both of them wide-eyed, but for entirely different reasons.

Shane went to look out the back window. "What are you-"

Ryan's hand took hold of his face, turning his head back around to look directly at him. "I've changed my mind! Let's get Taco Bell."

Shane frowned at him, his cheeks still squished in the other man's grip. "Okay. You can let go then."

Ryan loosened his grip. Then he tightened it again. "Surprisingly squishy."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know. Your face is so pointy." Ryan's voice was thoughtful. "I didn't expect you to have squishy cheeks."

Shane's brows were knitted, his voice a bit muffled. "Are you high?"

Ryan glanced in the rear view mirror, still holding the other man's head in place. Then he sat back in his seat, rolling down the window. "Nope. I'm fine. Jesus, do you ever clean your mirrors?"

Shane threw him an irritated glance, rubbing a hand down his face to get rid of the feeling of the other man's fingers. "Oh sorry, mom." He frowned as Ryan leaned out, using his shirt sleeve to wipe the mirror. "Jesus Christ, Bergara! Get in the fucking car."

"I am in the car." 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Shane slowed, scowling at him. "Put on your seat belt."

"Just drive, Shane! I want to get back."

"Me too, asshole!"

"Then drive!" Ryan threw him a glower as the car finally started forwards again. "But Taco Bell first."

"Yeah," said Shane irritably, waving a dismissive hand. "Taco Bell first. Shit."

* * *

Sara lifted her head, watching them stride through the office, side-by-side. Shane had complained about the shorter man's attitude almost every day since he'd met him, but damn, they sure spent a lot of time together. But even from her desk she could tell they were mid-argument. Shane was gesturing freely, and Ryan circled to be in front of him, walking backwards, the two of them still talking so quickly that it was impossible for them not to be talking over each other. 

"You think they're alright?"

Steven looked up from his phone, turning in his seat to see what she was looking at. "Oh. They're at it again, huh?"

They'd wandered to a halt in the doorway to their makeshift office, Ryan still talking animatedly. Shane's back was to them now, however, his arms resting either side of the doorway as he let his head hang back, eyes raised to the ceiling, a clear display of impatience. 

"Should I go over?" Sara tapped her pen off her desk, looking a bit worried. "I-"

Kelsey rolled into view, her chair bumping off Sara's desk as she rested an elbow on it. "Don't stop them. Please."

"Huh?"

"It's very entertaining for us." Andrew's monotonous voice chimed in, earning a nod of agreement from Steven. "I know working in the FBI must be entertaining and stuff, but the Treasury doesn't really get much actual fun."

Sara frowned, tilting her head. "A bit warped, but okay." She let her gaze flicker to where Shane and Ryan still stood arguing in the doorway, looking very much like they wanted to strangle each other. "But you guys work in the TFI Department. That has to be a bit exciting?"

Kelsey snorted. "Terrorism and Financial Intelligence isn't as action-packed as it sounds. The terrorism bit is just in case anyone is printing off money, or counterfeiting. The financial intelligence is... boring."

Sara nodded, lips pressed together. "Okay. Cool. I guess I'll leave them at it then."

* * *

"You're not telling me something, Bergara. What is it?"

Ryan shook his head, exhaling sharply. "I'm not- I've told you everything I know about this case! Why do you think I'm not telling you something?"

"Because of your little sneaky face." He tapped the top of the shorter man's head with a flourish. "Reveal your secrets, oh noggin."

He grinned at the flat look on Ryan's face, watching him move into the office, finally. Ryan leaned back against his desk, hands gripping the edge. 

"What could I possibly not be telling you?"

Shane didn't move from the doorway, his arms still resting either side, hands loosely holding the glass. "You're whispering a lot. To Tinsley, to Ruth, to Steven. To _Goldsworth_. What's that about? Why won't you whisper to me, huh?"

"You want me to whisper to you?" Ryan laughed, a matching smile on the other man's face. "You're not the type of guy who deals in whispers, Madej."

"I'm feeling left out." Shane let his hands slide off the glass, taking a few steps into the office. "So c'mon. What little secrets are you trading."

"Nothing!" persisted Ryan with a slightly-forced shrug. "I don't know why you're so hung up on this."

"Because I feel like I'm not getting anywhere with this case." Shane gestured at his own desk, his other hand resting on his hip. "I mean, I keep getting little tidbits. Maybe a name here, a location there, and I can't help but get the feeling I'm being drip-fed this stuff." 

Ryan stared at him for a moment, his eyes suddenly quite pensive indeed as they flickered up and down the taller man's face. Then he blinked, and it was gone, replaced by the sweet naivety. "Well I don't know how your mind works, Shane. You're just being paranoid."

"I don't get paranoid," said Shane dismissively. "In fact, I'm pretty certain I do the exact opposite to getting paranoid. So c'mon. Tell me."

Ryan shrugged, still leaning back against his desk. "I don't have anything to tell you."

"Ryan." He said the name quietly, moving to stand right in front of him. He saw the shorter man swallow, his gaze fixed on Shane's. "Help me out here. Give me some direction."

"I-"

"Sorry if I'm interrupting anything."

Ryan straightened up instantly at the irritated voice. Shane took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he turned to face the source of the voice. Goldsworth came right over to them, his narrowed eyes flickering between the two men. He'd started dropping by every few days, visits that were just as painfully unbearable as nails being dragged down a chalkboard. Shane took another steadying breath, turning away, holding one hand in the other, tight. There was something about the guy, something that just rubbed him up entirely the wrong way. Rubbed him like a match off a strike strip. He gritted his teeth as he heard the man start talking.

"I'd like to talk, Ryan," he said, pointedly ignoring the other man. "In private."

Shane's words were positively fierce, half-turning to glare at him, hands dropping to his sides. "I'd _really_ like it if you'd talk in here."

Ryan blinked at his tone, at the positively furious look in his eyes as he stared at Goldsworth. "I-"

"That's just too bad," replied Goldsworth, looking the taller man up and down in open disdain. "It's confidential."

"How." Shane took a few steps towards him, his gaze intense. "How can something related to the very case I'm assigned to be confidential."

He tapped his badge. "Because I decided it is."

"Oh you don't want to start that, pal. You really don't."

Ryan interrupted the brewing storm with a splash of sunshine. "How about I make us coffee? I'd love some coffee."

"And what could the FBI possibly make confidential from the CIA, huh?" Goldsworth smirked, a nasty gesture. "We're the tops dogs, Madej. Sorry 'bout it."

"Oh, it's not what the FBI can do. It's what I can do." Shane smiled at him, also not exactly a pleasant one. It didn't quite seem to reach his eyes. "And I'll tell you something, I can be your personal nightmare if you want."

"Oh, I'm terrified."

"Ricky." Ryan looked at him, not so smiley anymore. "How about we talk later. Much later."

Goldsworth inclined his head at this, appearing quite surprised indeed. "How much later."

Ryan opened his mouth to reply. Then he closed it. His gaze flickered to Shane, just for a split second. "I'll let you know. When I feel like it."

Goldsworth raised his eyebrows. "When you feel like it, huh?"

"Yeah, we all heard him," said Shane flatly, arms folded across his chest. "So go on. Scoot."

Ryan closed his eyes as Goldsworth finally left. He rubbed a weary hand down his face, circling his desk to his chair, basically falling into it. Then he sat, fingers against his temples, thumbs pressed into his cheeks as he stared blankly at his equally blank desk. Shane decided against talking. For once, he knew that it wouldn't be beneficial in any way. So he sat down too, pausing in pushing his chair into his desk as his eyes landed on Goldsworth, still lingering in the door across the desks. The man stared at him for a moment, hands in his pockets. Then he wandered off. Shane slowly sat back, arms folded, legs crossed. 

"I don't like him, Ryan."

"Shut up, Shane."


	4. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Ryan get along. 
> 
> Shane and Ryan _really_ get along. 
> 
> Shane and Ryan don't get along at all.

Ryan paced back and forth in the dark office, hands on his hips. He could feel Tinsley watching him, waiting. Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it. He sighed heavily. Then he sat down across from Tinsley, the expanse of dark wood that was the desk so shiny it showed their equally concerned reflections. 

"I think Shane needs to be bumped off the case."

Tinsley raised a bushy brow. "And why do you think that?"

"He's smart. He's too smart." Ryan wrung his hands. "He knows something's up. He knows I'm hiding something."

"How could he possibly-"

"He's just observant," said Ryan, hands still fidgeting. "And nosy. If he sees something he doesn't like, he comes over and lets everyone know he doesn't like it. I can't even just chat to Ruth without Shane kicking down the door demanding that he's involved. He's a- a bit of a whirlwind."

"A whirlwind?" Tinsley smiled at this comparison. "Elaborate."

"He just seems to be everywhere, all the time," explained Ryan, his sincere worry evident in his wide eyes. "He's a bit of a disaster when it comes to organization and stuff, but he acts on whims, and it's really difficult to try and pin him down."

"I did get that impression, yes." Tinsley took a sip of his coffee, unaware of the slight foam that now rested on his mustache. "But I don't have the authority to lay him off, Ryan. You'll just have to try harder."

Ryan gave his jaw a scratch, letting his hand drift down, give his chin a pensive rub. "Yeah. I suppose. But he-"

"Knock knock!" Shane pushed the door right open, strolling right into the office, hands on his hips. "Oh hey guys! How are you. How's it hanging."

Tinsley blinked at him. "Can I help you, detective?"

"I was just looking for this little guy, actually." Shane clamped a hand down on Ryan's shoulder, oblivious to the _I told you so_ look on his face as he did so. "Also, you have a foam mustache."

Tinsley looked at his reflection in the desk. Then he chuckled, rubbing it away. "Silly me."

"I'm busy right now, Shane." Ryan shrugged the hand off, leaning back in the chair to glare up at him. "So if you wouldn't mind."

"Oh, of course. Go ahead." Shane meandered over to the bookshelves, either unaware of or uncaring of the eyes glued to him. "Extensive collection you've got here, Tinman. What's this one?"

"No, don't-"

Shane pulled the book right out, flipping it over to read the cover. "Oh, a dictionary." He spun on his heel to smile at them both, holding the book in front of his chest. "My favorite."

Ryan and Tinsley continued watching him in silence as the man plonked himself down in the chair beside Ryan, crossing his legs in a figure four, opening up the thick, leather-bound dictionary. He flipped through it for a minute, giving a wise sniff. He tapped the page.

"Oh, here's a good one; _perfidious_." He spoke into the silence, loud and clear. "Deliberately faithless; treacherous; deceitful. Oooh, what a word."

"Shane." Ryan's voice was tight with anger. "Go away."

"Wait, no, I prefer this one." Shane read it in a light voice. " _Machiavellian_ : cunning, scheming, and unscrupulous, _especially in politics_." Shane laughed, like he couldn't believe what he was reading. "Dictionaries, huh? Just full of so many... interesting words."

Ryan yanked the dictionary from his grip, dumping it on the desk. Then he grabbed hold of the man's tie, positively dragging him from the room, slamming the door behind them. Shane glared down at him, fingers hooked behind his tie to stop it from choking him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" demanded Ryan, giving the tie another yank, seeing the taller man's jaw clench as he was pulled sharply downwards. "That's my fucking boss, you asshole."

"You're excluding me, Ryan!" He pulled the shorter man's hand off his tie, irritably attempting to undo it, pulling it off over his head as he spoke. "It's not funny anymore. You're slipping away every five fucking minutes, leaving me sitting in that office like a damn dog waiting for you to get back. And then you don't even tell me what you've been doing!"

"It's not related to what you're doing!" lied Ryan fiercely, already turning away. "Keep your stupid pointy nose out of my business!"

"You're not cooperating with me here, Ryan." Shane took off after him, shoving his now permanently knotted tie into his pocket. "We're not going to find Morgan if you don't help me. _I'm_ willing to help _you_."

"No offense, Shane, but you're pretty fucking useless."

A stunned pause. Ryan let out a surprised yelp as Shane suddenly caught hold of the back of his shirt collar, yanking him back, the shorter man stumbling against the wall. Ryan pushed himself more upright, the wall cold through his shirt as he held the taller man's glare, unwavering.

"Listen to me, Ryan. And listen good. I'm here to help you. And because of that, I can only be as useful as you make me." The words were rough with anger, his finger poking the shorter man's chest with every few words. "So if you keep trying to solve this stupid thing by yourself, then I'm just wasting my time here. And before you tell me to leave, I _can't_ leave. This is my life now until we find Morgan, either dead or alive. So stop being a pompous little ass, and fucking help me!"

Ryan swallowed, still leaning back against the wall, hands pressed to the cool plaster. "I'm not being a pompous ass."

"You are _impossible_ , you know that?" Shane stood in fuming silence for a moment, searching the other man's wide eyes. Then he turned on his heel, storming off down the hallway. "For God's sake."

Ryan rubbed his chest where the taller man's finger had been jabbing, straightening up off the wall. He sighed heavily, moodily. Then he followed. He had been intending on going straight from Tinsley's office to the library, but maybe Shane had a point. Maybe he should be including him more. And also, a restless Shane was turning out to be a very difficult thing to tame indeed. So he went to their office, and stood in the doorway, and Shane's eyes glared back over his computer. Ryan turned his head aside as he sighed sharply, arms folded across his chest. 

"I'm going to the library to look up some stuff," said Ryan, clearly in a sulk now. "Do you want to come."

Shane raised a hand to his ear, a pensive frown on his face. "Hm? Sorry?"

Ryan gritted his teeth. "Do you want to come with me."

"That doesn't really sound like you're asking for my help."

 _You son of a bitch._ "Can you come with me. Please."

Shane sat back in his chair, checking his watch, giving his beard a light stroke, like a wise old man. "I suppose, yes."

It had started to rain. Shane swiped an umbrella from the stand in the office, a nice big red one. He ignored Ryan's disapproving frown as the shorter man shrugged on his coat, buttoning it up. Shane left his open, not really giving that much of a shit. Rain never really bothered him. He grew up in a place where rain was pretty frequent. Ryan clearly hadn't. 

"California?"

Ryan threw him a confused frown as they made their way down the stone steps in unison. "Hm?"

"Are you from there?"

"Uh, yeah. LA."

"Yeah. You can tell." He popped up the umbrella, holding it over both of their heads. The rain pattered lightly against stone, against cars, against the umbrella. The silence between them lingered. "I'm, uh, I might have been a bit harsh earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, well, ya did."

"I'm trying to apologize here, Ryan. Don't rub it back in my face."

Ryan took a deep breath. "Yeah, alright. Sorry."

"I too am sorry." They waited at the pedestrian crossing, the cars flying back and forth, tires splashing against the wet tarmac. "C'mon. It's clear."

Ryan was about to respond, was about to point out how the red man was still standing stoically up on the lights. But he felt the taller man's hand brush against his lower back, guiding him forwards, and his words escaped him. He continued staring straight ahead even once they'd crossed the road. He could feel the arm still around his waist as they made their way through the crowd. Ryan swallowed hard. Did Shane know his hand was still resting on his hip, holding the shorter man against him? Ryan tried to get his heartbeat under control, swallowing again. 

"Uh, your- Your arm is still on me."

Shane frowned down at him. Then his eyes widened in alarm, and he snatched his hand back, shoving it into his pocket. "Ha ha. Oops. Sorry."

"Sheepdogging me a bit there. Ha."

"I'm just such a natural gentleman," replied Shane, searching for the entrance to the library over the crowd, essentially hiding his blushing face. "I can't help it."

"Well then give me some umbrella."

"Quit complaining. We're here."

They went through the sliding doors, the dryness and the warmness very much welcome. Shane dropped the umbrella in the bucket with all the others, continuing on into the building after the shorter man. A quick flash of badge and ID excused their absence of any library cards. 

"I have one though."

Shane rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."

Ryan threw a mock-insulted frown back at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're a massive nerd. Of course you'd have a library card." 

"Says the one who knows the entire history of the Treasury building."

Shane stuck his tongue out at him. Ryan did it back. Then they continued on into the shelves upon shelves upon shelves. Shane meandered along behind the shorter man, looking at the man's face as he studied the rows of books. Yeah. Yeah, he was pretty. The thought had entered Shane's head ever since the car incident, and now it was slipping back in unnoticed every day. Shane cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away to look at the books. 

"What are we looking for here, exactly?"

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Uh, stuff on Ecclesiastes. Anything that seems relevant."

"Okay." He stepped around the shorter man, continuing on down the shelves. "Give me a shout if you need help, uh, reaching the top shelf, yeah?"

"Ha. So funny."

It was silence for a while then. Ryan searched through every book which even mentioned the letter 'e'. He yawned, taking another book down. He'd need a coffee soon. Definitely soon.

"Hello."

Ryan lifted his gaze back to the space he'd just taken the book from. He could just about see Shane's eyes, the smile evident in them. Ryan grinned back, laughing quietly.

"There you are."

"It's me." Shane laughed too. "Uh, I actually found something a bit weird."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Shane vanished from the gap, reappearing on Ryan's side of the shelves. He came right down to him, an open book in one hand, his other hand in his pocket. "This is just a really basic one about the history of Ecclesiastes and stuff, but I found this in it. I don't know what it means, though. Gotta whip out Google Translate for that bad boy."

Ryan took the piece of black paper, squinting at the white writing. "Sự chêt. It means death in Vietnamese."

Shane blinked. "Are you Vietnamese?"

Ryan shook his head dismissively. "No. I just know it."

"You 'just know' it? How do you 'just know' a completely different language?"

"I, uh, I learned it." Ryan slipped the piece of paper into his pocket, unaware that the person it was intended for was actually hovering close by, listening through the shelves. "I know Russian too. And Spanish, Italian, and French."

"What the _fuck_ , Bergara?" Shane shook his head in wonder. "You're something else, aren't you."

"Oh, French, Italian, and Spanish are all pretty similar."

"Mm? Speak some French to me."

Ryan looked up at him with just his eyes, head still lowered to face the book he was skimming. "Tu es un putain."

"Oooh, Ryan." He gave a little shimmy. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're a great guy."

Shane wandered down the shelves with him, side by side, their shoulders overlapping. "I used to do German in high school."

"Yeah? You remember any of it?"

Shane nodded, coming to a slow halt, a pensive frown on his face. "...Senf."

Ryan inclined his head. "What does that mean?"

"Mustard."

Ryan closed his eyes with a weary sigh. "You just get worse every day."

"Funny. That's what my German teacher used to say to me." He followed Ryan around the shelves to the side he'd gotten the book from. "Herr Shane, you are und dizaztar!"

"Shh, Shane! We're in a library." Ryan turned to smile up at him, struggling to contain his laughter. "Stop, dude. I'm gonna lose it."

Shane looked down at him for a moment, a soft smile on his face. "Sorry. I won't share anymore childhood traumas with you."

Ryan gave him a light punch in the shoulder, more of a shove with his fist than anything else. Then he paused, still smiling. "Do you want to get a coffee after this?"

Shane nodded instantly. "Yeah. Sure. Definitely."

They moved back down the shelves, both trying to stifle their smiles. Ryan tilted his head back, seeing the gap in the books above him. He hesitated. He'd have to jump for it. He could sense Shane waiting, waiting to see if he'd do it. Ryan sighed, tapping the book he was holding off his hand. 

"Shane?"

"Yes, Ryan."

Ryan didn't respond for a moment, gaze lowered. "I can't seem to reach the top shelf. And I'd very much like that book there."

Shane looked up at the one he was pointing at. "Is it Vietnamese?"

"Yeah. It's says about symbolism in the title. So it shouldn't be here." Ryan looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Bit of a coincidence, right?"

"Mm." Shane looked down at him, a slightly smug smile on his face. "And of course I'll get it for you, Ryan."

So he reached up, and plucked the book out from between the others. Then he passed it to Ryan, their fingers brushing. Ryan's smile was gone. He raised his head to look the other man in the eye, Shane's jollity gone too, replaced by an emotion much more intense. They looked at each other, _really_ looked. Ryan swallowed, not looking away. Was he reading this wrong? Was something happening here? Shane cleared his throat, finally letting the book go, his warm fingers sliding off Ryan's. _Don't do it, Ryan_. He looked up at the taller man again, feeling a bit unsteady. _Don't get involved with a straight man. He's just tall. That's it. Tall, and funny, and charming, and he has pretty eyes. Smiley eyes. Shit._

"Do you want to get that coffee now?" asked Ryan into the quiet, the two books in his arms. "Like, right now?"

Shane nodded, trying not to appear too openly eager. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Ryan followed him down the shelves, down the stairs, slipping the books into Shane's bag. He knew he was being a bit stupid. Shane was straight, for God's sake. He was just going to hurt himself here. But then Shane ushered him out the door, and they were back out on the street, red umbrella bright above them. It was still raining. Shane turned his head to smile down at him.

"Where do you want to go?"

Ryan finished buttoning his coat again, looking thoughtful. "We could-"

Shane let out a yell as he was suddenly shoved aside, his bag wrenched off his shoulder with such strength he stumbled forwards to one knee, the umbrella flying from his hand. He was back up in an instant, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Son of a-"

Ryan tore past him, flying off after the mugger, shoes pounding the wet pavement. Shane took a step forwards, then realized there was no real point in following them on foot. He wasn't exactly the fastest, and damn, was Ryan a fucking track star now or something? So instead, he ran onto the bike lane, hands out. The upcoming cyclist screeched to a halt, Shane's hands grabbing the handles.

"FBI! I'm commandeering this bike!"

"What?" The woman blinked at him, stunned. It wasn't every day a giant man screaming about the FBI tried to steal your bike. "I-"

"Either give me your fucking bike or I'll ticket you for not wearing a helmet!"

She immediately got off, cursing. Shane hopped on, veering out into the street, ignoring the furious beeping and honking as he flew between the traffic, the rain whipping into his face, his coat billowing behind him with the speed he was going at. He could just about make out Ryan still sprinting through the crowd, following the other figure that rapidly disappeared around the corner.

"Son of a bitch!" Shane did the unspeakable, cutting across the edge of the footpath before straight-up ignoring a red light, hearing the people yelling at him. "Shut up! Leave me alone!"

Ryan wove through the crowd, the mugger swerving in and out of view. He followed the guy right out onto the road, ignoring the screeching of brakes as cars came to abrupt halts. A taxi skidded forwards, Ryan swiftly sliding across the bonnet, hitting the ground running, undeterred. The guy was going into the park, shoving men, women, and even children aside as he went. Ryan shoved the men and women, but he spared the kids. He wasn't a damn monster. The grass was slippy underfoot, but he followed the mugger, knowing full well by now that this was not an average mugger. He vaulted the bench after him, skidding slightly on the wet stone, his hand scraping off it as he pushed himself back upright.

"FUCK!"

Ryan saw him positively zoom in from an adjoining entrance. Shane threw himself off the supersonic bike, sending it sliding across the stone, taking the mugger's legs out from under him. Shane hadn't even finished tumbling before Ryan was hopping over him, the sound of a scuffle ensuing. Shane was too busy coughing for air to see what was happening, lying on his front on the wet stone, face pressed against it as he struggled to stay conscious. The side of his face burned, and his shoulder complained every time he tried to move it. There was a silence but for the sound of running footsteps, swiftly receding. Then he felt the hand on his shoulder, hearing Ryan's panted breaths.

"You alright?" Ryan stood over him, hands on his knees, bag in hand. "Shane? You good?"

Shane rolled onto his back, eyes squeezed shut as he began wondering was he actually about to die or not. "I- I- Gimme a minute. Fuck."

Ryan swallowed, nodding, the rain dripping down his face. His gaze involuntarily wandered down to the other man's heaving chest, where his now-muddy shirt was stuck to him, outlining the light muscle underneath. Ryan swiftly straightened up, pulling his eyes away. He stuck out a hand. Shane eventually took it, letting Ryan pull him to his feet. He stood for a moment, oblivious to the rain as he let his head hang, hands on his hips, pulling back his coat either side of him. 

"Fuck me, Ryan. How are you still standing?"

Ryan wiped the rain from his mouth and chin, staring at him. "Hm?"

"You were incredible." Shane stared at him in open amazement. "I saw you slide across that bonnet, man. Don't tell me you're some Olympic gold medalist too. On top of everything else."

"It was just a reflex." Ryan passed his bag back over, seeing the wide-eyed awe still on the taller man's face. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Sure. Sure, right." Shane shook his head, shrugging his bag back on, tucking it under his coat this time. "Fuck me, Ryan. Jesus."

Ryan looked up at him, rain dripping from his dark hair. "Your face is bleeding."

"Thanks. I was entirely unaware."

* * *

They arrived back in their office with an overwhelming sense of relief. That hadn't gone as planned at all. Ryan put his cup of coffee down on his desk, smiling at Shane. Shane smiled back. They'd went for their coffee, feeling like it was just a bit well-deserved. Unfortunately, they were now in the office quite late, as the impromptu mugging had taken a bit of a chunk out of their time. Ryan took the two books Shane handed over to him, dropping them onto his desk. The next hour or so passed in comfortable silence. Ryan skimmed through the book on symbolism, sitting with his chin resting in his hand. He tapped a page, Shane raising his head to look at him.

"The Four Holy Beasts." He translated the highlighted words for the other man. "Dragon, Qilin, Turtle, and Phoenix. Wonder why they're marked."

"Hm?" Shane got to his feet, coming over, leaning on the desk. "I-"

"Shit, Shane." Ryan reached up, gently tilting the man's head aside, seeing the scratches on the side of his face, the side of his neck. "You're all cut up. Like, pretty bad."

"Well, yeah. My face and the pavement got acquainted very roughly."

"And your hands, dude." Ryan got to his feet, turning the other man's hands palm-up so the scrapes were visible. He went ahead and pushed Shane's sleeves up, one at a time, gripping his wrists as he did so. "And your arms!"

"My arms aren't scratched." He looked down at them, Ryan's fingers warm around his wrists. "They're just a bit bruised."

"Did you clean your hands?"

"No.” Shane watched with a frown as the other man examined the cuts closely. “It’s no big deal. They're not even that deep.”

“They’re dirty.”

“I know. How could they not be?”

Ryan stared at him, one eye narrowed. “Do you look after yourself at all?”

Shane shrugged. “I ate a, uh, a fruit this morning. A whole one.”

“Jesus. Sit down.” Ryan took the disinfectant from his own desk, soaking the corner of the cloth in it. “This is gonna sting. So shut up.”

Shane sat in Ryan's chair, a bit stiff. “Wow. Are you descended from Florence Nightingale?”

Ryan lightly dabbed at the man’s palms, pulling his fingers forwards as Shane automatically went to clench his fist. “Don’t be a baby. Come on.”

Shane gritted his teeth at the sting. “I’m not being a baby. I’m fine.”

Crouching down, Ryan quickly cleaned up his hands, making sure every bit of dirt was truly eradicated. Then he lifted his gaze, looking up at Shane, who was watching him back. Ryan straightened up, nodding at him to tilt his head aside. Shane did so, keeping his eyes pinned on anything but Ryan’s face as the shorter man leaned in towards him, a hand resting on the arm of the chair, his other hand lifting up the freshly-soaked cloth. He pressed it against the line of cuts, not taking it away even as Shane’s hand grabbed hold of his wrist tight, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Shane.” Ryan raised an eyebrow, almost challenging. “Come on.”

Shane narrowed his eyes at him, slowly letting go of his wrist. "Fine."

Ryan began cleaning the red scratches as softly as he could, but even still he saw Shane's hands tighten on the arms of his chair, heard the chair creak as he readjusted his seating. Ryan turned his head slightly, knowing that if he turned it any more their noses would bump.

"It's stinging because it's working," he said quietly.

"It's stinging because you have the gentle touch of a hydraulic press."

"It's stinging because it's on your neck. Now shut up."

He went back to cleaning, hearing Shane's muttered curses with each swipe. His movements faltered slightly as he felt the hand grip his side, fingers digging in. Ryan swallowed, seeing the man's face, the eyes squeezed shut. He gave the cuts one last dab.

"It's clean!" Shane practically yelped the words, his other hand grabbing Ryan's other side, just below his ribs. "It has to be clean. Fuck."

"They're still dirty, Shane! You're gonna get an infection if you-"

"Well then just get it over with!"

"I am," replied Ryan moodily. He clamped the cloth down hard on the man's neck, definitely not on purpose. 

Shane yelled a curse, holding Ryan at arm's length, his eyes watery. "It fucking burns, man! Just back off a second."

Ryan had his arms raised a bit awkwardly, still highly aware of the grip on his waist. "You might have to let go of me then."

Shane glowered up at him, pulling him forwards again so that the shorter man was standing over his leg. "Just get on with it."

"Your face is gonna sting more."

"Just do it, Bergara. Be rough with me."

Ryan blinked at this, seeing the grin on the other man's face. "Oh c'mon, dude. Just be serious for once."

"Fine. Whatever."

Ryan leaned in again, taking a gentle hold of Shane's face, tilting it aside. He was all too aware of the hands sliding down to his hips, thumbs brushing up his hip bones, almost distractedly. He brought his head back to see the other man's face properly, watching the closed eyes, the raised eyebrow as the hand travelled back up again, tracing up his ribs. Ryan swallowed hard. This wasn't very heterosexual of Shane at all. He lowered his gaze, looking at other man's parted lips, feeling the shaky breaths against his mouth. 

"Just... Come a bit closer." Shane cleared his throat, pulling the other man forwards a tad. "Might make it easier."

Ryan didn't reply. He nodded in silence, coming a bit closer, not that he was able to get that much closer. Or so he thought. Shane pulled him forwards, Ryan simply went with the movement, sitting across him, their mouths hovering inches apart. He rested a hand against the side of Shane's face that wasn't scratched up, feeling the other man push into the touch slightly. Well. Well, Shane wasn't straight. And the way he let his hands run over the other man without hesitation made it clear he had never been straight. Ryan swallowed, raising the cloth again, his hand shaking slightly. His heart was positively pounding in his chest. 

Shane heard the cloth hit the ground, felt the now free hand rest on his shoulder. He kept his eyes closed in an attempt to stay even a tiny bit in control, but the weight of Ryan against him, the feeling of his hands on his body was sending him into shock. He nudged forwards slightly, his nose slipping past the other man's, their lips brushing.

"Shane." Ryan's voice was quiet, faint. "What are we doing."

Shane swallowed. "Nothing."

Ryan closed his eyes, his brain abandoning its post as main decision-maker. "Okay."

Shane leaned forwards just that centimeter more, kissing him softly, their lips fitting together gently. It took them a while to separate, breath mingling. Shane kissed him again, harder, Ryan's head tilting back with the pressure. He heard Ryan give a low grunt, hands gripping the front of Shane's shirt, shoving him back against the chair, keeping their mouths together as he did so. And it was good. It was surprisingly good. Shane's hand slipped around the back of the other man's neck as he felt the tongue make its way into his mouth, meeting his own. He frowned, leaning into the kiss, beginning to feel this curiosity quickly change to a necessity in the back of his mind. Then he felt Ryan freeze, break away, breathing heavily.

"Someone's coming."

Shane finally heard the various footsteps. "Oh. Okay, cool. I-"

"Not cool. Pretend you don't even fucking know me."

Shane blinked at this, looking just a bit insulted. "Right. Okay."

Ryan sat down at his own desk, looking just a whole lot flustered. He looked up as Shane got to his feet, shrugging on his coat, picking up his bag. The taller man went right out the door without looking back, entirely relaxed. He smiled at Tinsley, at the two women he was with. And he went home. And Ryan sat in bafflement in his office, despite the fact he was meant to be focusing entirely on the intel being given to him.

* * *

"It was just a little kiss." Shane shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal."

Ryan stared at him over his coffee. Then he put his coffee aside. "Excuse me?"

"I was just wondering what it'd be like. And it was good." Shane continued flicking through the book, looking at picture after picture of carved stone animals. "Don't make it weird."

Ryan was stunned. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet and the other man had just verbally slapped him in the face, then given him a hard backhand just to get the message through. "Are you being serious right now?"

Shane didn't look at him as he gave the flippant response. "Yeah. It was just a kiss."

Ryan continued staring at him in silence. "You can't just- just kiss me and then act like nothing happened."

"I'm not acting like nothing happened." Shane raised an eyebrow at him. "I kissed you. We made out a little. Now it's over."

Ryan sat back in his chair, genuinely stunned. "So- So I was just a little bit of entertainment for your late evening, huh?"

"Calm down, man!" Shane grinned at him, closing the book over. "It's really not that important."

"Fuck you." Ryan got to his feet, hands on his hips. "That's a real shitty move, Madej. What the hell."

"I didn't know you were going to take it so seriously." Shane scowled up at him. "I thought it was just a bit of fun. Jeez."

Ryan shook his head, furious. "Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Asshole."

"Jesus." Shane opened the book back up as the other man stormed out of the office, eyebrows raised. "Alright then."

Huh. Their little office space suddenly felt like a lot more of a cage than it previously did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeaaa double update because I had the weekend off. updates will now probably be every two/three nights because work n college. sad.


	5. Good Morning, Vietnam!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Shane engage in their most personal debate yet. A Vietnamese restaurant cooks up some mystery, and serves a familiar face.

"Do you just do that to people?"

Shane rolled his eyes for the millionth time that evening. "For God's sake, Ryan. Just forget about it!"

"You put your tongue in my mouth!"

"Just for a second. Two days ago!"

Ryan shook his head, still baffled by the mindset of the man beside him. "So you just _do that_ to people?"

"I mean, yeah, I've done it in the past." Shane tapped the steering wheel distractedly, eyes narrowed as he searched for the sign. "Usually we come to a, uh, a mutual agreement. Of some sort."

Ryan turned his head at this, seeing the sidelong look the other man gave him. "I am not, absolutely not, going to be your fuckbuddy. No way."

"Fine!" Shane's hands lifted off the steering wheel in a nonchalant gesture. "I just think you're a very attractive man. But fine."

"Forget about it."

"Fine!" He shook his head in bewilderment, finally spying a glowing sign. "I have no idea why people take this stuff so seriously. It's just sex. That's all."

"I can't do that, Shane. I can't separate my emotions from sex." He shrugged. "A lot of people can't. I'd actually say you're in the minority here."

"Have you _ever_ had sex without emotions?" Shane looked at him, eyebrows raised. "It's great! You just plow and then you can go about your day without any worry. Simple."

"Have you ever had sex _with_ emotions?" Ryan returned the puzzled look. "It's way better, dude."

"Oh, what, you make _love_ to their _soul?"_

"No, it's just nicer."

"I don't want to have 'nice' sex, Ryan. I want that steamy, hands-on, both of you panting for breath type sex." Shane snorted. " _Nice_ sex. Get out of here."

"It can be both," replied Ryan stubbornly. "It's nice to have great sex with someone who wants you for more than just your body."

Shane didn't reply for a moment, pulling up outside the bar. "And is that what you and Goldsworth had, hm?"

Ryan spared him a sidelong look. "What's it to you."

"I don't know. Goldsworth just doesn't seem like the type of guy who's into his emotions."

"Mm. Well, that's for me and him to know."

Shane cut the engine, grinning. "Out of curiosity, who topped? Since you're both tiny."

"I'm not tiny," snapped Ryan, glaring at him. "And it's none of your business."

"So not you, huh?"

"Why are you so obsessed with Ricky, huh?" Ryan didn't look away from the other man, arms folded across his chest. "What's that about?"

Shane gave him a flat look. "Not what you think it's about. The only way I want Goldsworth under me is if he's buried six feet underground, and I'm dancing on his grave."

"Oh, he wouldn't be under you," laughed Ryan. "Jeez, you don't know him at all."

"Ryan, I have never bottomed once in my life, and I _never_ will." He made a cutting motion with his hand, final. "I am a top. I've always been a top. And I'm a damn good one. So that's that on that."

Ryan looked him up and down, trying and failing to hide his interest. "You know, I don't think I want to get much more involved in your sex life."

Shane undid his seat belt with a roll of his eyes. "Fine. I'm sorry that me putting my tongue in your mouth made you emotional. And also, if I remember correctly, it was _you_ who started shoving your tongue around first."

"I didn't shove it around."

Shane smiled dryly. "Yeah, you didn't. It was actually pretty, uh, _nice_."

"Shut up."

"Well, I'm just gonna put it out there," said Shane, one hand pushing open the car door, the other gesturing vaguely. "If you ever change your mind, I'm down. Anything physical, just give me a buzz."

"You are the worst." Ryan shoved open his own door. "And also, no. I don't get involved with coworkers."

"I'm not really your coworker," replied Shane over the roof of the car. "We've just been thrown together in this universe like two sexy leaves in a hurricane."

Ryan stared at him. "Sometimes you say something and I actually have to restrain myself from knocking all your teeth out."

"Aw. Thanks." Shane locked the car, moving down the path towards the shady-looking bar. It was a shady street. In a shady part of town. The carved statue stood proud outside, the only relatively clean thing about the place. "But wait, aren't Andrew and Steven seeing each other?"

Ryan didn't reply for a moment. "They're different."

"How?"

"They just are. I can't get involved with someone I work with, _or_ alongside." Ryan reached for the door, the paint flaking off the handle. "So-"

"But you dated Goldsworth."

"His name's Ricky."

"I'd rather not get familiar."

"And we didn't really _date_." Ryan gave him a sidelong glance. "We just... got a bit involved with each other."

Shane tried to hide his irritation, raising an eyebrow. "Look, I don't mean to be pushing this, but out of curiosity, why would you get involved with him but not with me."

Ryan smiled, a teasing one. "Well, you're sounding a bit jealous, aren't you?"

Shane narrowed his eyes at this, tutting. "Just go."

But it stuck with him. It really, really stuck with him. He followed Ryan in, giving the statue outside one last once-over. It was a weird-looking character indeed; the head of a dragon, hooves, scales of a fish, the tail of a lion, all carved smoothly. It had been Steven that had pointed at the picture in the Vietnamese symbolism book and said _hey, that's outside that Vietnamese restaurant downtown!_  A Qilin, one of the Four Holy Beasts. Shane felt like its blue stone eyes were staring at him. He closed the door firmly behind them. Ryan was already at the bar, talking to the bartender in what Shane suspected was Vietnamese. He stood in awkward silence, hands on his hips. He felt dumb. He didn't like this feeling. Then the bartender nodded towards Shane, her eyes laughing, and Ryan laughed, and they continued chatting, and Shane had enough.

"Look, I know I'm the stupid white man here," he said, scowling. "But this is a federal investigation, and I'd like to be able to understand what you're saying."

Ryan grinned at him. "Don't worry, big guy. I have it."

"I don't want you to have it," hissed Shane. "I want to have it."

Ryan gave him a withering look. Then he muttered a few words to the bartender, and the girl rolled her eyes, and she switched languages with a sigh.

"Look, I don't know why the statue is out front," she said lazily, leaning on the bar. "It's just always been there. I don't know why it's so clean."

"Is your manager around?" asked Shane with a raised eyebrow.

"He's out the back room," she shrugged. "But he'll be in in a minute. You guys want a drink while you wait?"

"No," said Ryan firmly before Shane could interject with the complete opposite response. "We'll just sit. Thanks."

So they sat at the bar, angled towards each other. Ryan folded his arms on the dark wood. Shane did the same. They stared at each other, heads tilted expectantly, waiting for the other to speak. The bartender went back to scrolling through Instagram.

Shane was, of course, the one to finally drag their past conversation back into the present again. "Okay, when was the last time you just had no-strings-attached sex, Ryan?"

"Oh my God. Shut up."

"You're missing out, man." Shane spread his hands. "You're what, twenty-five? You should be getting laid left right and center!"

"If you _really_ have to know," replied Ryan slowly, an eyebrow raised. "I did have sex. Last night."

Shane smiled at this. "No strings?"

"Uh, not quite."

Shane's smile faltered just a bit at the other man's tone. "...Who."

Ryan shrugged, looking away, suddenly finding the top of the bar very interesting indeed. "Uh, Ricky. I went to Ricky's."

The few bits and pieces on the bar rattled as Shane let his hands fall onto it, his face stony. "You went to Goldsworth's."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Ryan sat forwards as he readjusted his seating, his gaze still lowered. "So there."

Shane unclenched his teeth. "That's not no strings."

"Well it was really fucking good. So I don't care." Ryan pressed his lips together to try and stop himself from laughing at the other man's face. "Why the hell do you hate him so much, dude?"

"I- I just-" He let the sentence slip away. What could he even say anyway? _I just hate the idea of his hands on you?_ That didn't sound very unemotional. Shane tilted his head slightly, frowning at his own thoughts. "I just think he's a bad guy. A bad egg."

"He's not that bad," grinned Ryan. "You just hate him because you don't like the idea of me having sex with someone who's not you."

Shane laughed out loud at this, slapping the table. "Jesus, Ryan. Where the hell did you get that from?"

The bartender snorted, not looking up from her phone. "Where didn't he get it from?"

Shane stared at her, an eyebrow arched. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I think I can already tell what happened here." She lowered her phone, eyes thoughtful as she sniffed. "Mm. Yes. I can smell some sort of tension." Another sniff. "Mm, definitely sexual. But... But wait." She licked her fingertip, raising it into the air. "Yes, yes, that's what I thought. You two hooked up already, and now-"

"We didn't hook up," said Ryan instantly. "This idiot just kissed me, and then decided that it didn't mean anything."

"Ooh, harsh."

"It's not harsh," said Shane firmly. "I just didn't think he'd take it that seriously. I mean, come on. We've known each other for what, two months?"

"He _then_ tried to imply that we should start a mutually-beneficial physical relationship," continued Ryan, eyebrows raised to match the bartender's. "I rejected this offer, and now he's jealous because I slept with my ex."

"Woah woah woah, that is all _way_ exaggerated."

"Oh yeah? What bit did I exaggerate?"

Shane glared at him in silence. "Shut up. All of it."

The bartender grinned, folding her arms on the bar, settling in for some entertainment on this otherwise dead evening. "And can I ask who this Gold guy is?"

"Uh, a total douchebag," said Shane sincerely.

"He's my sort-of ex."

"Wait, wait, sort-of?" Shane didn't look all too impressed at this revelation, turning in his seat to face the other man more directly. "Since when?"

"No, no, not like that." Ryan shrugged, fidgeting with a straw he'd plucked from the rest. "We never really _dated_ dated. We just got a bit... close sometimes. Too close."

Shane scowled in silence. "Huh." He got to his feet, not quite calm enough to stay sitting. "Huh. _Huh_. Interesting."

The bartender smiled, blowing on the hot coals in front of her. "Why interesting?"

Shane gave her a sidelong look, hands on his hips. "Right. This bozo told me about half an hour ago that he doesn't fuck coworkers-"

"I said it much less crudely."

"-yet now he says that he was basically _hooking up_ with Goldsworth. Not even official." Shane rubbed a hand over his mouth, feeling the rough stubble. "I need a drink. Scooch over."

The bartender did so, allowing Shane in beside her. She barely reached his chest. "Did you used to be a bartender?"

"Yeah. Long ago." He picked up a bottle of vodka, tossing it lightly in his hand. "I was better at it than my current job, anyway."

"You're an FBI detective?"

"Yeah."

"I wanna be one of them," she said wistfully. "I want a badge."

Shane grinned at her, then at Ryan. "See? She already gets it."

Ryan rolled his eyes, sitting back, arms folded across his chest. "C'mon then, Madej. If you're better at bartending than your current job, you still must be a disaster at it."

Shane raised his eyebrows at this challenge, catching the bottle firmly. "Oh yeah? Watch this sweet trick." He balanced the bottle on the back of his hand before attempting to let it roll down his arm. He barely caught it before it fell, the bottle jumping wildly in his hands. "Stop laughing. Hold on."

He put the bottle down, shrugging off his suit jacket, tossing it at Ryan like a stripper. The other man caught it, a wry look on his face. Shane smiled at him, a sly one, rolling up his sleeves, loosening his collar and tie, turning on his heel with a flourish when done. 

"This is me in my element, little guy." He picked the bottle back up again, flipping it neatly. Ryan hid his surprise. "I'm gonna blow your mind."

Ryan watched him work, looking just a bit astonished. "Well, you actually _are_ better at this than your current job." A shrug. "Even though that's not that hard to, uh, accomplish."

Shane whistled through his teeth, shaking the cocktail up. "Ooooh, almost a compliment."

"You want a compliment?" grinned Ryan, chin resting in his hand.

"Desperately."

"Then try harder."

Shane smiled dryly. "Fine."

The bartender grinned at their exchange, distractedly wiping the top of the bar as she spoke. "You guys are _flirting_. Like, hard flirting."

"Actually, I believe it's what the English call, uh, 'savage banter'."

"No, it's what the entire world calls flirting." She looked from one to the other. "How long have you guys been having this 'savage banter', hm?"

Shane slowed in his shaking of alcohols. Ryan lowered his gaze, suddenly a bit stiff. The silence lingered long enough to show there wasn't going to be a response. Not while they were both in the room, anyway. The bartender was delighted.

"Oh my God. You guys are so cute but so stupid."

"Shut up," said Shane dismissively. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're what, barely twenty-one?"

"I'm seventeen."

"What?!"

"I mean twenty-one," she said quickly, eyes wide. "Not underage. A joke. HA."

"I'm gonna go find your boss," said Ryan quickly, getting to his feet. " _And don't talk to him about me when I'm gone_."

" _Why not? It's funny_."

" _It's not funny! It's none of your business._ "

Shane squinted at them both, as if there'd be real life subtitles under their heads. "This sucks. I should've stuck with German or something."

" _He likes you_."

" _He doesn't. He doesn't know what he feels_."

"You _know what_ you _feel_." She smiled mischievously. " _You want him to be jealous_."

Ryan glared at her, then at Shane, then back at her. "How do I get to the back."

She nodded flippantly at the two metal doors behind her. "Kitchen."

Ryan left, slipping through the doors. Shane finished making his drink, pouring it out into the proper glass for a pina colada. Then he stared at it pensively, hands resting either side of it. He heard the bartender move to the radio, turn it up, before going back to her job as if there wasn't an FBI agent towering over her, staring silently at a cocktail as he reconsidered some things. He straightened up with a sigh.

"Turn that up louder, will you?" He picked up the drink, taking a sip. Not bad, considering the fact he hadn't made one in nine or ten years. "Alright. So why do you want to be an FBI agent? It's actually surprisingly lame."

* * *

Ryan moved through the kitchen. It was a bit dirty, probably didn't meet up to all the health standards. But that wasn't his job, so he didn't question it. He just made a mental note never to eat there. A lone chef stood at the metal trolley in the center of the white room, kitchen knife gleaming as he expertly sliced up what looked like pork. Ryan smiled at him. The chef didn't smile back. Ryan hesitated, standing on the opposite side of the trolley.

"What are you doing in here?" The chef seemed oddly familiar, especially his eyes.

Ryan stared at him for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen those dead eyes before. "I'm just looking for your employer."

"Out back."

"Okay." 

Ryan glanced at the door the chef nodded towards. Going to it would mean turning his back to the chef. Ryan watched the knife slicing away, wondering why his gut was telling him this wasn't a good idea. He met the man's eyes again, the two of them watching each other. The chef straightened up, knife still in hand, but not slicing pork anymore. Ryan moved around the table, jumping slightly as he heard the radio in the main restaurant suddenly blast on, Shane's voice joining in, more shouting than singing.

"I LEFT MY HEAD AND MY HEART ON THE DANCEFLOOR!"

Ryan swallowed, seeing the chef was now angled towards him, one hand still on the slab of meat, the other holding the knife against the metal trolley he was working on. It was him. It had to be him. Ryan had seen his eyes over the scarf as he'd wrenched Shane's bag from his hand in the park. Dead eyes. Ryan rolled his shoulders ever so slightly, a subtle movement, tilting his head slightly, loosening up.

"CUZ I'M OUT IN THE CLUB AND I'M SIPPIN' THAT BUB AND-"

The chef moved before he did. Ryan ducked under the slash, throwing himself sideways, rolling across the table and onto the tiles on the other side. He heard the scraping metal as the knife went right through his tie and into the surface, the chef swiftly following him over. The punch that struck him across the face was positively blinding, the knee that swiftly drove into his side sending a pain through him so sharp it immediately brought him back into consciousness just in time for the elbow to land on the back of his neck, dashing his head off the trolley. He dropped to one knee, clinging to the trolley for balance, his tie holding him upright. Shit, he was getting his ass handed to him. His scrabbling fingers found the handle of the knife, wrenching it from the metal. He flipped it in his grip, driving it sideways towards the chef who dodged backwards, hat teetering dangerously. Ryan stumbled backwards to his feet, feeling the warm blood dripping from his nose. He held the knife ready, seriously considering shouting for Shane. He wanted to call him. The chef was more than a match for him, and he was already feeling a bit unsteady on his feet. But he _couldn't_ get Shane involved in all this, no matter how much he wanted to. It was highly unlikely the detective would even hear him over the blaring music. So he stood his ground, and readied himself for the ass-whooping that the chef swiftly cooked up and dished out to him. 

* * *

"Hold on, hold on." The bartender squinted at the drink Shane was pouring out. "How do you get the colors to come out like that?"

"It's density," replied Shane, looking at the rainbow shots he'd just poured out in a neat row. "The red's the lightest, so it comes out first, and so on." He lifted one of the small glasses, the bartender doing the same. He raised it. "To the gays."

She nodded solemnly. "To the gays."

They downed them. Shane then went back to his pina colada, beginning to think that maybe he shouldn't be acting quite so carelessly around a potential future FBI agent. But then again, she seemed like she acted like this anyway. She pulled her dark hair into a ponytail before beginning to try and recreate what Shane had done. He raised an eyebrow.

"You got any better stations on that shitty radio?"

She looked up. "I have an AUX cord. Hold on."

He let her run past into the back room, her ponytail swishing. She was cool. He liked her. He circled the bar, sitting on one of the stools, deciding that maybe it would be good for him to have a protégé of some sort. Shane looked up from his drink as the kitchen doors slammed open, the chef bolting past him, his white coat stained red. For a moment, Shane sat in silence, baffled, his pina colada in hand. Then he looked at the kitchen doors, which were still swinging. 

"...Ryan?"

No response. Shane poked his head in the doors, taking a sip of his drink as he observed the state the kitchen was in; scattered cutlery, broken dishes, some red wine or sauce or something splattered across the trolley in the center. "Ryan? You in here?"

"Hm? Yeah!" The reply was delayed, his voice oddly thick. "I'm fine! I'll be out in a bit."

Shane followed the voice to the freezer, pulling the heavy door open. Then he stood in stunned silence. "What in the _fuck_ happened to you?"

Ryan was leaning on the metal racks. He raised a casual eyebrow, one hand on his hip, the other pressing a bag of frozen stir-fry vegetables to his eye. "Huh? I'm fine."

"Your eye. What's wrong with it."

"Nothing!"

Shane finished his drink in one, chucking the glass behind him to join the rest of the mess as he came in. "Show me."

"...Nah." Ryan stepped around him and out into the kitchen again. He was limping slightly, a hand returning every few seconds to his ribs, but he was trying to hide it. "I'll see you later, yeah? I have some stuff to do."

"Hold on." Shane kept his suspicious gaze on the back of the other man's head. "We drove here together."

"I'll walk!"

"You will not walk." Shane placed a soft hand on the other man's shoulder. "Ryan. Look at me." His voice was surprisingly gentle. "What happened?"

Ryan looked up at him with one wide eye, the other still hidden behind the frozen bag. "I fell."

"Bullshit." Shane raised an eyebrow, watching a trickle of blood escape the other man's nose. "You're bleeding?"

"Oh?" Ryan swiftly wiped it with a hand that was already stained red, hinting at many previous wipes. "Coincidence. I don't know."

Shane followed him into the main restaurant, then out the doors, wanting to shout at him, to demand he tell him what happened. "Get in the car."

"I-"

"I won't ask anymore questions." Shane opened the car door for him, still frowning. "Not until later. But you're not walking anywhere in that state."

Ryan hesitated, his head lowered. Then he just nodded, sitting into the passenger seat. Shane closed the door firmly. They drove in silence, Shane staring straight ahead, gaze distant. Ryan stayed leaning against the door, hiding his face, bag still pressed to his eye. His other hand rested on his stomach, each breath seeming stiff. Shane didn't go to the Treasury. No, he went the opposite direction to it. He drove for a long time, hands tight on the steering wheel. 

"Where are we going?" asked Ryan.

"For a drive."

"I don't want to-"

"Shut up, Ryan. Just shut up." He eventually pulled over on a quiet stretch of road, filled with abandoned buildings, empty shops. He cut the engine. "What happened to you."

Ryan swallowed, tasting coppery blood. "You said you weren't going to ask any more questions."

"I lied." Shane watched him, feeling a bit insecure all of a sudden. "Why won't you tell me? What's going on with you, man?"

"Nothing, Shane! Just leave it."

"No!" Shane glared at him. "You're not telling me something. You haven't been telling me something since the beginning. What is going on?"

Ryan shrugged, still not looking at him. "I don't know."

"You don't know?!" Shane sat back in his chair, sighing heavily, harshly. "You're fucking infuriating, you know that?"

"I want to go home, Shane," he replied just as fiercely. "I just want to go home."

"Well fine, we'll-"

Another car pulled up in front of them, its lights staying on as the owner got out. Shane's heart clenched, his fists too. Ryan didn't say anything. He just got out of the car, going around to the bonnet to meet Goldsworth. Shane got out too, staying behind his open door, his hands resting on it. He swallowed the unpleasant feeling that was rising through him, the feeling of genuine hurt. Ryan was talking quietly to the other man, Goldsworth nodding, a hand on his shoulder. It made Shane sad. It made him furious. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the intruder.

"It's the books," muttered Ryan, letting Ricky check his bruised eye. "Ever since we took them out, we-"

The sound of a car door slamming made him pause, turning his head, Goldsworth's hand slipping off him. "Shane? Shane! Hey, Shane! Wait!"

Shane didn't hear him. He couldn't hear him, and he didn't want to. Ryan stepped towards the car, feeling oddly panicked as it just kept going, tearing off down the street, leaving him standing with the quietly smug Ricky. He stood in the middle of the road for a minute, hands hanging by his sides, one still holding the cold bag. Everything hurt. Shane didn't come back, the headlights vanishing around the corner.

"What a douche." Ricky nodded towards his car, turning away. "Come on, I'll drop you home. And tell me about the books in the car."

Ryan nodded, a delayed response. He sat into the car, gaze lowered. "He's not a douche."

"He is. I mean, the attitude on him is-"

"He's nice," said Ryan firmly, holding the thawing bag in his hands, tight. "He's nice to me."

"Oh, you like him, do you?"

Ryan sighed at the bitter words. "Not like that." A blatant lie.

Ricky shook his head. "That guy likes you, Ryan. A lot. I mean, are you stupid or something?"

"No."

"Then why do you even care that he bailed on you? He's just jealous."

Ryan swallowed. "I know." A pause. "Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

A silence. "Sure. Okay."

* * *

Ryan went into the office the next day with unmistakable dread in his chest. He lingered in the break room. No one questioned the black eye. Why would they? It wasn't exactly unheard of in those offices. He sat in silence, looking at his rapidly-cooling coffee. Then he got up, and he made a fresh one. He made two fresh ones. Then he braced himself, taking a deep breath, and he went into the offices. 

Shane didn't even look up as he placed the coffee down in front of him. He ignored him completely. Ryan hovered in front of his desk, silently begging him to speak first. Shane didn't raise his head. There was a wall between them now, built in a matter of seconds in Shane's mind. Ryan could almost see it dividing their desks. He swallowed, holding his mug in both hands, fingers tapping it agitatedly.

"Shane..."

"Shut up, Ryan. Leave me alone."

He blinked at the fierceness of the words, his fingers stopping their tapping to grip the mug tight. "Come on, dude. I didn't-"

"Go away, Ryan!" He finally glared up at him, hands pausing in their typing. "For God's sake!"

Ryan nodded, feeling just a bit choked up. "Okay. Sorry."

He sat down at his desk, pressing his lips together, his vision becoming just a bit blurry. He quickly turned his head aside to give his eyes a quick wipe, swallowing hard. He finally turned on his computer, his head hanging, hands gripping the back of his neck. Why did he care so much? It's not like Shane would've been able to help him. Ricky had the expertise, not Shane. But God, having Shane not talking to him was a nightmare. He looked at the man again. Shane was glaring at his computer screen, but he wasn't typing. His hands were just resting on the keyboard. Then he gave his head a little shake, the piece of hair that always seemed to break free from the rest and hang forwards shaking too. He went back to typing. Ryan took a deep breath, straightening up in his chair, hands pressed to the desk either side of his keyboard.

"You can't take those books out of this building, by the way," he said into the silence, hoping his voice still didn't sound too weak. "The ones from the library. They have to stay in here."

No response. This was torture.

Ryan sighed wearily, rubbing his eyes before wincing, remembering his bruised one. He looked at Shane, willing the man to even spare a glance his way. Nothing. They may as well have been in different rooms.

"Shane, what the hell do you want from me?"

For a moment, he didn't think Shane was going to respond. Then he did.

"Silence." The typing continued. 

Ryan sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "I don't understand you. I really don't. I mean, you kiss me. Then you tell me it was just you, oh, 'having fun'. Then you get mad when I tell you I slept with Ricky. And now you're not talking to me because- because what, Shane?"

Shane still didn't look at him. "Because you're annoying."

"You have some fucking problem, dude." This got a glare, an intense one. "What do you want here, huh? You want to just fuck me around, but never get exclusive, but get mad when I sleep with Ricky?"

"Stop talking about him," said Shane through gritted teeth.

"At least he fucking acknowledges the fact that there's something between us!" he replied fiercely. "Unlike you! You're too busy trying to act as if you don't give a fuck about anything, oh no, Shane Madej just doesn't _care_ , he-"

Shane got to his feet so suddenly his chair rolled backwards, bumping off the wall. "Shut the fuck up, Ryan! I mean it! Shut your fucking mouth!"

"Act like a fucking adult, you asshole!" Ryan also stood up, hands pressed to his desk. "Stop screwing me around here, it's pissing me off!"

"Stop screwing _you_ around?" Shane laughed, a bitter sound. "I-"

"What the hell is going on?" Sara basically skidded into their space, her curls bouncing wildly. "The whole fucking office can hear you, idiots!"

"Nothing!" Shane grabbed his coat, angrily shrugging it on. "Absolutely nothing. I'll be back in a bit."

"Shane. _Shane_." Ryan cursed under his breath, following the taller man past the concerned Sara, out into the main offices. "Stop fucking walking away!"

Shane ignored him, striding through his halls, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He could hear Ryan's hurried footsteps behind him, each one making his shoulders tense more and more. It had started drizzling outside. He didn't care. He went down the steps.

"Shane!" Ryan followed him, not caring about the rain right in that moment. "Shane, talk to me!"

"God damnit, man!" Shane turned halfway down the stone steps, feet on different ones. Ryan slowed a few steps above. "You really want me to talk to you?"

"Yes! I do!"

"Then how about this." Shane moved back up the steps towards him as he spoke, fists clenched in his pockets. "I do like you. I think I like you a lot. But I don't want us to go anywhere because you drive me fucking insane, and we would be a total fucking disaster. So in my subconscious effort to crush these emotions, I tried to sleep with you instead. And before you take any credit for this revelation within me, it wasn't you. It was that bartender."

Ryan laughed, a shocked one. "You _like_ me."

"Sometimes! I don't know! Most of the time I want to just fucking strangle you." Shane stood for a moment, looking like he was about to say something more. Then he just turned away, continuing on down the steps.

"Shane." Ryan followed him doggedly, hugging himself against the cold rain. "Just a question. I just have one."

"What. What's your question."

Ryan swallowed, feeling like a damn highschooler as he stood in front of the taller man, still hugging himself. "Why do you think we'd be a disaster?"

"Because you don't tell me stuff, Ryan." Shane searched his eyes, seeing the fearless vulnerability in them. "I'm no expert, believe me. But I think the first step to not crashing and burning instantly is to trust each other. About everything."

Ryan nodded, his dark hair beginning to fall forwards with the rain dripping from it. "I know."

Shane pressed his lips together in a firm line. "You're not going to tell me, are you."

Ryan's voice was quiet. "I can't."

"Right. Right, okay." Shane shook his head, turning away. "I won't be in tomorrow. So don't wait around for me."

"Shane, come on, dude."

Shane kept going, disappearing around the corner of the building at a fierce pace. Ryan let his shoulders slump, his eyes close. Then he let out a long, frustrated groan, rubbing his hands down his face, shaking the rain off them. He went back inside, hands on his hips as he stood in the foyer, head hanging, essentially drip-drying. Then he dragged himself back into his lonely office. 


	6. Walking Headaches

They didn't talk.

Shane had taken his day off, just in an attempt to refocus. To calm down. It hadn't worked. Ryan sat in moody silence, arms folded, glaring at his computer. Shane sat with his head on his desk, arms wrapped around it in a little cocoon, his hair still sticking out in tufts between his fingers. The silence was heavy, humid. But neither of them were willing to be the one to break it. Because even though the silence was painful, their conversation that morning had been more so.

Shane positively stormed into their little space, throwing his keys and phone onto his desk, placing his coffee down with enough force for some of it to hop out the top. He plonked himself into his chair, still refusing to look at the other man. He was mad. He was really, really mad. He hadn’t slept a wink, and it had been a long time since he’d been kept awake by the thought of another person.

“You’re late,” said Ryan icily.

Shane threw him a warning glare. “Shut up.”

“By an hour.”

“I said shut up.” He shrugged his suit jacket off, tugged his tie loose, unbuttoned his collar. Everything was uncomfortable.

“Stop being so loud.”

"I'm not being loud," said Shane loudly. "Shut up."

Ryan sniffed in that infuriatingly haughty manner, scribbling down another few words on that Ecclesiastes verse he never seemed to put down now. "How was your day off, hm? Did you get over your tantrum?"

"I would punch you right in the mouth if I knew you wouldn't deck me instantly." Shane glowered at him, a sidelong look. "I'm beginning to think it might be worth it anyway."

"Oh, I dare you," laughed Ryan, a patronizing sound. "I fucking dare you."

Shane folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair. "I had a great day off. If you really want to know."

Ryan turned his gaze from the book to Shane, not liking his tone at all. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was _very_ busy." _Busy trying to get you out of my system by screwing someone else_. 

Ryan stared at him for a long moment, his pen hovering above the book. He knew exactly what the other man was implying. "I don't care."

Shane smiled dryly. "Oh, sure. Try not to look _and_ sound like a sulky child next time you say that."

"Fuck you." Ryan went back to his work, basically stabbing the page in front of him with his pen. "Asshole."

And that had been that. From half nine until midday, it was cold, stony silence. Ryan hated it. He hated the quiet, and he hated the fact that Shane had slept with someone else. He _hated_ it. It was positively burning him up inside, outside, all over. He finally threw his pen onto the desk in front of him, slumping back in his chair, hands resting over his face. This movement made Shane move, the taller man finally pushing himself back off the desk with a quiet breath, letting his head tilt back slightly, his hands pressed to the surface as he looked at the other man. As he looked the other man up and down. As he let his gaze wander over Ryan, over his body, making his jaw clench as he struggled to tear his eyes away. His hands curled into fists, he leaned forwards, forearms rubbing against the edge of his desk as he did so. _Fuck_ , he was desperate. He took a deep breath, letting it out harshly, his eyes still glued to the other man's body. _Shit_.

Ryan finally took his hands from his face, his gaze instantly meeting Shane's. For a moment, he was a bit stunned by the blatant hunger in them. Then he smiled. "Well, Madej. It looks like your day off really helped you out."

Shane turned away, pushing his fingers back through his hair. “Do you ever just stop talking?”

Ryan stared at him, eyebrows raised. “Did you, Shane Madej, really just ask me if I ever stop talking?”

“Well did I fucking stutter?”

Ryan went quiet. Then he got to his feet, striding out the door. Shane watched him go with narrowed eyes, taking a deep breath. He stood up, pacing back and forth, hands on his hips. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. He shook his head to try and clear it, eyes closed.

“What are you doing?” demanded Ryan, already back in the room, a file in hand.

Shane didn’t even notice himself close the space between them, his furious gaze locked on the shorter man’s. Ryan didn’t back away, not even an inch, undeterred by the openly threatening attitude of the taller man. Were they squaring up? He wasn’t too sure. Half of him hoped they were. He wanted nothing more than to suplex the taller man through his goddamn desk. Shane moved forwards again, Ryan’s hand pressing against his stomach to keep him back. And that was when they realized that no, they didn’t want to fight. They didn’t want to fight at all. But they sure as hell wanted to get physical.

“You guys okay?” It was Sara, poking her concerned head in the door.

“Fine.” Shane turned away, sitting back down at his desk, Ryan doing the same with just as much attitude. “Just fine.”

“…Okay.”

Shane finally turned on his computer, each tap of Ryan’s keyboard making his blood pressure rise. Sara lingered, fingers tapping the glass that made up the doorway. She cleared her throat, the air in the room absolutely suffocating.

"Shane, can we talk?"

"Sure. Definitely." He got to his feet, immediately following her out the door, feeling himself relax entirely as he stepped outside. "Yeah?"

She nodded towards the further doors. "No, like... Can we _talk_?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, like, _talk_."

"Yeah. _Talk_."

"Sure. We can _talk_."

So they went outside, and really, Shane missed it. He missed having Sara beside his desk everyday. But alas, he was stuck with this other douche.

"So what's up?"

Sara hesitated, arms folded. "Look, this is gonna sound weird, but... is Ryan acting, like, _suspicious_ around you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Suspicious?"

"Like, as if he's not telling you something?"

"Holy shit, Sara. Yes."

"Okay, okay, so are Andrew and Steven." She spread her hands, eyes wide. "They're all whispering and shit behind my back! I thought maybe they just didn't like me-"

"Impossible."

"-but then I saw Ryan doing it too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he does it." Shane glanced over his shoulder before leaning down, voice hushed. "That restaurant we went to yesterday? First, he wouldn't tell me why the statue was just _so_ important. Then he goes into the kitchen bit, and I go in to find him and he's been battered around the place! And the chef ran away, just vanished! I don't know what's going on!"

"Oh my God, same. Andrew and Steven came in the other day in _pieces_ and just said they got in a fight? With each other?" She stood, speechless for a moment. "I mean, Andrew was basically drooling blood, man! And don't get me started on Kelsey. She-"

"Hello."

They stepped apart at Tinsley's voice, avoiding each other's gazes, suddenly finding the ceiling very interesting indeed. So much for covert FBI agents. 

"Detective Madej, Ryan's looking for you to go back to Ruth's home with him," said Tinsley with a smile.

Shane frowned at this. "Hm. Is he."

"No. He explicitly said he didn't want you to come. But it's your job, so off you go."

Shane turned his eyes to Sara, giving her a meaningful look. "Cool. I'll go. See you soon."

* * *

It was a sunny afternoon. The birds whistled, Shane whistled, all to different tunes, it was giving Ryan a headache. He glared at Shane, his elbow resting on the car door, his head in his hand. The man was a _walking_ headache. Especially recently. Shane looked at him, then looked again, as if he'd forgotten the man was there. He looked him up and down, letting his gaze linger as he turned back to face the leafy autumnal road.

"Didn't mysteriously fall and give yourself another shiner while I was gone, hm?"

Ryan gave his jaw an absent-minded scratch. "No."

"The other one's still there." Shane reached over, giving his face a little poke. "I'll admit it, Bergara. It's kind of hot."

"Shut up, Shane."

"Ugh, you're such a bad boy."

" _You're_ such a pain in the neck." Ryan fiddled with his shirt sleeve, folding it more tightly around his elbow, loosening it again, tightening it. "Are you a youngest child?"

Shane frowned at this. "Uh, yeah. I am."

"Mm. You can tell."

"Oh, bite me."

"Just don't know when to shut up because your parents let you away with everything."

"Said like a true eldest child."

Ryan rolled his eyes. Then he went quiet, still occupied with his sleeve. "Did you really sleep with someone yesterday?"

Shane didn't reply. He cleared his throat, the indicator clicking as he turned it on. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. I did."

A silence. "Okay."

Shane pressed his lips together in a line, willing himself not to look at the other man. Then he looked at him. "Oh Ryan, come on. Don't do that."

Ryan sat with his head in his hand, giving him a glower. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're sulking. I hate when you sulk." Shane reached over, giving his cheek a soft pinch. "Your face is so pudgy when you sit like that."

Ryan immediately stopped resting his chin in his hand, folding his arms across his chest as he sat back. "I can't believe you'd do that."

"Oh here we fucking go." Shane sighed heavily, wishing Ruth's house was just that bit closer. "What? You're mad that I slept with someone because I was mad that you slept with your shitty stupid ex?"

"I don't know!" Ryan buried his face in his hands with a frustrated groan. "I don't know what's happening here! I mean, one minute you're being nice to me, and the next you're being a dick again! It's just- " He sighed loudly. "I mean, me and you can't go anywhere. Ever. We just can't."

"Why not!" Shane seemed genuinely confused. "Why can't we go anywhere? Why can't you tell me what the hell is going on in your head?"

"I just can't!"

"That's not good enough."

"You don't understand." Ryan slumped in his seat, ignoring Shane's mutters to watch the upholstery. "This is just as fucking infuriating for me as it is for you. Believe me."

"I _really_ doubt that."

"Why?"

“Because I needed to think about YOU, Ryan!”

The shorter man blinked. “What?”

“I needed to think about you in order to fucking have sex!” He was driving with his wrists at this point, his hands gesturing freely. “I’ve never had to do that! I just- I just imagined that I was screwing you instead of who I was and I had to- God damnit. Fuck.”

Ryan could feel himself flushing furiously. “You thought about me while you were having sex.”

“I literally _only_ thought about you. And it made me feel super fucking weird.”

“…Yeah. Makes me feel a bit weird too.”

Shane shook his head, turning onto the street. “I don’t know what sort of fucking hold you have on me here, Ryan, but I’d like you to let go. Pronto.”

“It’s not my fault you need to think about having sex with me to get hard.”

Shane shook his head again, sighing heavily. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re smirking. I can see it.”

Ryan shrugged. “It’s funny watching you trying to understand your own emotions. Like a kid in Play-Doh.”

“Mushing together all the different colors until they’re just a big disgusting mess.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“And also, it’s not emotions.” Shane threw him a sidelong look. “It’s purely physical.”

“Believe it or not, but sometimes the two are attached.”

“I want to have sex with you. Therefore I thought about you to turn me on. That’s not emotional.”

“You’d have sex with anything, Shane. Just close your eyes and point.” Ryan raised a wise finger. “Or, has something in your mind changed that has made you consider me and me only.”

Shane went quiet. “Shut up. No. I still hate you.”

“I still hate you too." Ryan raised his eyebrows. "But only one of us doesn’t have to think about the other in order to get hard.”

“Hold on a second there, pal.” Shane pulled up outside the house, cutting the engine. “So you have never thought about me in order to get it on.”

“I- No! Not once.” The truth is it was more times than he’d care to admit. "Maybe once. Or twice." Definitely once. He could still remember Goldsworth's face.

“So- So why the hell do we not just fucking do this, Ryan?” Shane spread his arms. “I mean, at this point, we’re just torturing each other!”

Ryan undid his seatbelt, the fabric scratching as it slid off his shoulder. “Because I don’t want to risk my job for you. That’s why.”

Shane frowned at him. "How would you be risking your job? I don't-"

Ryan swiftly left the car before he could probe any further. But inside, he was beginning to panic just a little at what was brewing between them. It was the worst distraction that could've possibly come up.

“Just a one-time thing, Ryan.” Shane got out on his side, closing the door in unison with the other man. “Come on. I’m basically throwing myself at you here.”

“Yeah, you are.” Ryan shrugged, the two of them moving up the driveway to the house. “Try harder, maybe.”

“Try harder. Right.” Shane shook his head with a wry laugh. “You’re not interested unless I’m on my knees, is that it?”

“It’s a start.”

Shane wanted to reach over, to shake some sense into the other man, to kiss him, to strangle him, to shout at him. “Right.”

Ryan didn’t look at him as he went to the door. He couldn’t. It was getting difficult. Really, really difficult. To do the simplest things. Like look him in the eye, or just talk to him. Earlier, Shane had rested a hand on his shoulder in order to get by him in the corridor, and he was still thinking about it.

“Oh, and what? He just touched your shoulder.”

“It was the way he did it, though.” Ryan turned to Steven as they headed towards their cars, his eyes wide, sincere. “He kind of like, brushed his thumb beside my neck? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I do, and it’s that you’re desperate.”

“God. You’re right.” Ryan sighed heavily, eyes closed. “This sucks. I hate this.”

Steven gave him a hearty slap on the arm, smiling. “It was in the job description, Ryan. You just gotta suffer through it.”

And here he was, suffering through it, feeling Shane standing just at his shoulder. He rang the doorbell again, his hand bumping off Shane’s as the taller man went to do the same. They both snatched their hands away, glaring at each other. Shane tutted, turning his scowl to the door.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Ryan folded his arms tightly across his chest. “ _You’re_ being ridiculous. Stop standing so close.”

“Oh, my apologies. Should I wait in the fucking car?”

“Yes. And if you’re lucky I might even crack a window for you.”

Shane shook his head, his gaze landing on something over Ryan's head. “Immature...”

Ryan looked up at him, wondering what the trailing sentence was about. Then he turned his head to follow the man's gaze, a hand automatically resting on Shane's arm. "Car. Go to the car."

Shane didn't look away from the advancing black van that was cruising along the quiet suburb, letting himself by dragged back down the driveway. "But tinted windows are illegal, Ryan. That's just-"

"Get in the car!" Ryan yanked open the door, reaching up to grab the back of the taller man's head, shoving him down into the driver seat like he was arresting him. "Drive!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bergara!" Shane rubbed the back of his head, a bewildered glare on his face as Ryan clambered over him to get to the passenger seat. "Fucking- Watch your goddamn knee, you ass!"

Ryan ignored him, reaching over, yanking the door closed with a bang. Then he locked the doors, pressing the button a few times to make sure. Shane was still staring at him, ready to give one hell of a lecture, when Ryan's face was plunged into shadow. Shane turned in his seat, seeing that the van had pulled up right alongside them. And through the tinted glass was a face just a bit familiar, a woman with bouncing curls. Her dark skin made it hard to make her face out. He lowered his hand from his head, feeling Ryan still leaning against him, a hand on his chest. There was a flash of a smile from the van. Then it continued on with a rumble, going at a normal speed now. Shane looked down at Ryan, at the hand still pressed against his chest. Ryan didn't look back. He didn't move until the van had vanished. Then he swallowed.

"Go," he muttered. "Go back to the Treasury."

Shane watched his anxious face for a long moment. "Okay. Fine."

* * *

Shane hopped down the steps from the Treasury, readjusting his sunglasses where they were hooked onto the front of his shirt. He wouldn’t need them. It had been a nice afternoon, but now it looked like it was going to be a dark and gloomy night. He was on his way across the pave stones, footsteps loud, when he heard another set of footsteps. He paused, seeing another figure moving towards him, a lit cigarette in his mouth. The man slowed as he saw Shane, his dark eyes glittering. Shane didn’t move, even as the other man wandered to a slow halt in front of him.

“Madej, isn’t it?”

Shane tilted his chin up slightly as he looked him up and down. “It is.”

There was a pause. The man smiled, that shark’s smile that made Shane’s shoulders tense. “C'mon. Don’t act as if you don’t remember me.”

“I remember you.” Shane turned to face him more directly, not appreciating the way Goldsworth let the smoke from his cigarette float right up into his face. “You lurk here often?”

A sharp laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

Shane watched him. “Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Goldsworth didn’t appear to be in any hurry; he had a full cigarette left to finish, anyway. “Explain.”

Shane shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance. “Well, you and Ryan dated, right? You going in to pay him a late evening visit?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“None. I guess.”

“You guess correctly.” Goldsworth let the smoke roll off his tongue as smoothly and unpleasantly as his words. “But yes. I am. A nice late, long, and hard evening visit.”

Shane gritted his teeth. “Alright. Just stay away from my desk.”

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Oh, just since you're, how they say, _crushing_ on Ryan-”

Shane snorted. “Yeah? What made you come to that conclusion?”

Goldsworth looked him up and down. “I have a bit of evidence.”

“A man from the CIA jumping to the wrong conclusions with little to no evidence.” Shane half-smiled. “Figures.”

The shorter man took a long drag on his cigarette, blowing it out harshly, right at the other man. "Let's just say that Ryan said a name the other night while we were... otherwise engaged. A name that wasn't mine."

Shane kept his face neutral, but inside, he was stunned. Then relieved. Then downright smug. "That's... interesting."

"Isn't it." Goldsworth looked him up and down in clear dislike. "Wonder why he did that."

"Oh, I _promise_  my tongue was not in or around his mouth." 

The fury was palpable. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Madej."

Shane rolled his eyes. "Do all dicks from the CIA use that line?"

“No need to drag my job into this.”

“Well you’re out here wandering around with that badge out for all to see,” said Shane lightly, giving the badge in question a tap. “Can’t expect me not to poke fun at it.”

“And what’s that on your belt there, hm?”

A flicker of a smile. Then Shane stepped forwards, closing the small space between them, his eyes still fixed on the shorter man’s. “I’m not interested in taking part in any pissing contest here, pal. So how about you run along now, and we can start fresh at our next unpleasant interaction. Yes?”

Goldsworth dropped the end of his cigarette, stubbing it out in a manner that made it very clear he wanted to do something similar to Shane's face. His hard eyes didn't leave the taller man's. “No, actually. I think you should stay the fuck away from him before I-”

“Shane, I- Oh.” Ryan slowed to a walk as Shane half-turned to look at him, revealing Goldsworth’s irritated face. “Ricky. Hi.”

“Hi.”

Shane cleared his throat, purposely ignoring the man he’d just been verbally sparring with. “You alright? Got something for me?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.” Ryan joined them, finishing buttoning up his coat. “In private. Though.”

“In private.” Shane turned his gaze back to Goldsworth’s, his fists clenching in his pockets at the positively murderous look on the shorter man’s face. For a second, he thought Goldsworth was going to hit him. _Do it, pal. I dare you_. “So if you wouldn’t mind.”

Goldsworth didn’t move for a long moment. His dark gaze dropped to Ryan. Shane stepped forwards to separate their eye contact, glaring down at Goldsworth. He felt Ryan's hand on his back, soft, calming. After a few tense seconds, Goldsworth whipped around, striding back towards the exit. Ryan looked from his receding figure to Shane’s moody scowl, raising an eyebrow.

“What were you guys talking about?”

Shane rubbed a hand across his mouth, still watching Goldsworth. He didn’t let himself relax until the man had gone out of sight. “Hm? What?”

“What were you talking about?” Ryan stepped into his line of sight, looking just a whole lot on edge. “What did he say? Did he touch you at all?”

Shane frowned at this, blinking. "Did he _touch_ me?"

"Show me your hands." Ryan pulled the man's hands forwards, examining the palms, eyes narrowed. "Was he wearing gloves or anything?"

"I, uh, no. No, he wasn't." _What the fuck?_

Ryan still seemed unsettled, dropping the taller man's hands. "Well what did he say?"

“Oh, he said he was going in to pay you a late, long and hard evening visit,” replied Shane, attempting to sound airy but instead sounding the exact opposite. “You really choose them well, Ryan.”

Ryan frowned at this, following the taller man as he paced away. “Hey. Hey, Shane. You’ve met  _one_  of my exes. So I don’t know why you-”

“Seen one seen them all.”

“Shane.  _Shane_.” He grabbed the taller man’s arm, pulling him back. “The fuck is your problem, dude?”

Shane tugged his arm out of the tight grip. “Nothing. It’s late and I want to go home.”

“Fine.” Ryan decided to let him go on. Then he changed his mind. “Shane, hold on a second. Just let me say what I need to say, goddamn it!”

“What?” asked Shane in open exasperation, shoulders slumped as he turned back around. “What is it?”

“Just- Just leave Ricky alone.”

For a moment, Shane was puzzled. Then he raised his eyebrows. “Wait,  _what_? Leave Goldsworth alone?”

“Yeah.” Ryan folded his arms across his chest as he looked at him, jaw set. “Stop being an asshole.”

“Stop being a- Fuck you, man.” Shane turned away. He turned back again almost instantly. “That guy’s a total asshole, Ryan. What the fuck do you even  _see_  in him?”

Ryan hesitated. “He’s okay. Sometimes.”

“Wow. Wow, okay.”

“It’s not like it’s even any of your business. I don’t know why you’re getting so involved right now.”

Shane stared at him for a minute. “It- He- If he’s going to be coming into the office regularly, then it kind of is my business. I don’t want him there.”

“Oh, really? So it’s okay for you to give a woman fucking head on my desk but I can’t have my ex come into-”

“Is he even your ex?”

“You just completely ignored what I just said!”

“Is he your ex or are you still with him? Because he gave me really mixed signals there, Ryan.”

Ryan blinked. “Did he?”

Shane took a deep breath at the clear apprehension in the other man’s voice. “Jesus. You know, you’re right. It’s not any of my business. Goodnight.”

“Shane.”

“What!”

Ryan walked past him. “We’re parked the same way.”

Shane gritted his teeth, following him in grim silence. Ryan kept his gaze lowered, openly moody, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Shane scowled at the back of his head. Their footsteps were the only sound but for the rustling leaves and the distant sound of traffic.

“And not only does he smoke,” said Shane into the silence. “But he’s an obnoxious smoker.”

“Oh my God. Shut up.”

“Blowing it all around the place as if today’s society isn’t entirely aware of the dangers of second-hand smoke.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“And you want to know my favorite thing about him?”

“You know what? I really, really don’t.”

“It’s the way he looks at me whenever I open my mouth,” continued Shane. “I just love the blatant ‘I want to strangle you’ look on his face. Such a kind soul in those eyes.”

Ryan suddenly turned to glare at him, the taller man also coming to a halt. “What’s this about, Shane? What’s your issue here?”

Shane shrugged. “I just- I think you could do better. As a person.”

“You think I could do better.” Ryan’s voice was flat, his expression flatter. “Well since that advice is coming from someone who’s only known me for about two months, I think I’ll let it slide.”

“It’s not that hard to see that you, I don’t know, deserve better or something.”

Ryan spoke over his shoulder, pacing towards his car. “Right.”

Shane bit his lip, beginning to see that maybe he had overstepped the boundary here. “Look, Ryan, I didn’t-”

“Just leave it, Shane.” Ryan yanked open his car door, scowling at him. “Just stop talking.”

Shane stood at the bonnet, not quite wanting to leave it at that. He half-heartedly raised his hands, the movement lasting for barely a second. “Ryan, come on. You don’t think you deserve better?”

“I don’t know, dude!” Ryan rested his hands on the top of his car door, still scowling moodily at him. “I mean, you seem to have a better idea of what I deserve than I do. So c’mon. Spare me some wisdom.”

Shane straightened up at this, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t-”

“Tell me what you think I deserve.” Ryan was watching him, blatantly challenging. “As a person.”

Shane swallowed, his hands gripping his arms. “You- I guess maybe someone who won’t treat you like shit, Ryan. Simply put.”

“Wow. You’re so wise. I’ll definitely run to you next time I need relationship advice.”

“Ryan, wait.” He was a bit surprised to find that the man actually did wait, pausing in getting into his car. “I didn’t mean to- I just- I know I shouldn’t have like, I don’t know…”

Ryan’s glower lessened slightly; he’d never seen Shane stutter so much before. And oh shit, he was  _blushing_. Shane Madej was embarrassed, or ashamed, or  _something_. Ryan blinked, closing the car door over a bit.

“It’s just that the way he talked about you was like you’re stupid or something,” said Shane finally, avoiding the other man’s eyes. “Like you don’t really have any autonomy or anything. Like you don’t know how to just think for yourself or anything. And he’s just wrong. Because you’re not like that, and I know you’re not like that, because you’re smart and determined and it almost pisses me off how much better you are at my job than I am, I guess.”

Ryan stared at him, pretty certain his face would be scalding to touch he was blushing so furiously. “That’s… That’s really nice of you to say.”

“And I know I’ve only known you for a bit,” said Shane with a roll of his eyes. “But I feel like I’ve known you for longer than that. Not to sound too cheesy.”

“No. You don’t.” Ryan spared a small smile. “Well, you do a little.”

Shane rubbed the back of his neck, lips pressed together in a firm line. “I know.”

Ryan gave his chest a distracted rub, feeling his heart quite literally fluttering. “Thanks. For saying all that. It was really nice.”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” Shane hesitated for a moment before turning away, hands on his hips as he continued on towards his own car.

“Hey, Shane.”

He looked back, eyebrows raised. “Mm?”

 _Do you want to go for a drink. Just ask him. It’s no big deal. Drinks! Drinks with Shane!_  “Goodnight.”

Shane looked at him, lowering his gaze after a few long seconds. He nodded, clearing his throat. “Goodnight.”

Shane continued on towards his car, mentally strangling himself.  _You idiot, Shane. A+ for basic fucking English, you tool. Shit_. He sat into his car, closed the door, folded his arms on the top of the steering wheel, and just let his head drop onto them. He sighed long and loud, and harsh. Then he sat back, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Regaining control somewhat over his unruly mind.

The knocking on the window made him jump, turning to look up at Ryan’s nervous face. He rolled down the window all the way, resting an arm on it as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, hands pressed together in front of his mouth, like he was praying. “Do you- Would you like to- Aaaaah, nevermind! Forget I said anything!”

Shane watched him quickly pace away, the panic palpable. He sat back into his seat, seeing his own baffled frown in the rear view mirror. Then he rolled up the window, and started the engine, and drove home. And the entire way, he tormented himself with what exactly Ryan had been going to ask him.  _Would I like to what?_  Shane’s fingers drummed out an agitated rhythm on the steering wheel as he waited for the traffic to move.  _Would I like to what, Ryan? For God’s sake!_


	7. Sucker Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane begins to understand the term 'emotional fluffer'. A new enemy approaches. An old enemy approaches harder.

The sunny park was almost empty, but for a few couples wandering around, a family or two, an elderly man watching it all with a small smile on his face. He was lucky he was half-deaf, seeing as the bench beside him was occupied by two coworkers who had nothing to do during their break but get on each other's nerves. 

"Look, I just think that everyone's getting a bit impractical here, and-"

"It's the _evidence_ , Shane. It's the only evidence we have."

"It's not real evidence! A mysterious passage or two in a book doesn't count as hard evidence!" He glared at the man beside him, the two of them lounging on the bench overlooking the small pond, coffees in hand. "I'm the FBI agent here, Ryan. I'm the one with experience. I say we look into whatever the hell Morgan was doing in Tucson, and-"

"Steven and Andrew are doing that bit," said Ryan dismissively. 

"Steven and Andrew? No, _Sara's_ doing that bit." Shane sipped his coffee, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I didn't quite expect all of your coworkers to get so, uh, involved in all this."

Ryan shrugged, highly aware of the other man's arm resting across the back of the bench behind him. "It just happened. I don't know."

Shane rested his coffee on his knee, his legs crossed in a figure four. "You don't know a lot of stuff, don't you? You don't know why you got beaten up in a restaurant. You don't know why that van driver openly threatened us. Yet you still manage to be a complete know-it-all."

" _I'm_ the know-it-all? Sure." He raised his eyebrows as he took a mouthful of coffee, turning on the bench slightly to look at the other man. "Hey, can you come to IKEA with me after work? I just want to get this set of bookshelves."

"Yeah, sure."

"Cool." Ryan sat back. Then he sat forwards again. "And also I might need like, a bit of help getting it into my apartment. It's like, a bit long."

"Yeah, I'm not doing anything." Shane took a drink of his coffee. Then he froze, his eyes widening. He lowered his cup. "Oh my God."

Ryan looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You okay?"

"Oh my _God_." Shane took his arm from behind the other man, straightening up on the bench. "Why were you late to work this morning?"

Ryan shrugged, giving the back of his neck an awkward rub. "I, uh, I was in Ricky's. Just for the-"

"Fuck! For fuck's- Shit." Shane got to his feet, turning to face the other man, a hand on his hip, the other holding his coffee. "What is this? What's going on?"

Ryan stared at him, wide-eyed. "Huh?"

"I'm- I'm going to fucking IKEA with you. And not just that, I'm going back to your apartment to fucking _help you put it together_." He shook his head, bewildered at his own thoughts. "And last week I fucking went _grocery shopping_ with you. And the week before that I went to Target with you because you wanted to look at the fucking-" He slapped a hand against his forehead, gaze distant, alarmed. "Right now. Right now, what the _hell_ are we doing. I'm just sitting here having coffee with you?"

Ryan looked a bit stunned. "I didn't- So what? I don't-"

"Look at the only other people in this park, Ryan. Look."

Ryan looked. "...Couples."

"Couples, families, I'm your goddamn _boyfriend_." Shane spread his arms, not sounding too delighted at the revelation. "I'm your boyfriend, but only when it comes to fucking emotional shit! This is bullshit!"

"You're not my boyfriend," replied Ryan just as heatedly, getting to his feet. "You're just overthinking it. You're my friend, so you're just... helping me with some stuff?"

"I'm fulfilling every little emotional thing for you while _Goldsworth_ gets the goods!" Shane pointed at him with his coffee cup. "You said so yourself, you can't separate emotions from sex. So _I'm_ doing the work, but Goldsworth is getting the fucking rewards! You're separating your emotions from sex by literally applying them to two different people!"

"Shane, come on." Ryan didn't really know what to say after that, so he just repeated it. "Come on, Shane."

"It's true, Ryan." 

Ryan stared at him, and the worried look in his eyes made it clear that he was very unsettled indeed. "I- I didn't know. I didn't know I was doing that. But shit, you're right."

"I _am_ right." 

"I'm sorry, I just-" He sighed heavily, resting a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry. God, that's just a slap in the face. Shit."

Shane looked him up and down, lips pressed together in a line. "I'll still go to IKEA with you, Ry."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll just go by myself."

"No, man, come on." Shane gestured vaguely. "I like spending time with you. Sometimes. I'll go with you."

Ryan swallowed, his gaze lowered. "Thanks. But if I cross a line anywhere, Shane, you have to let me know." He half-smiled, a half-hearted effort. "I don't want to do that to you. I don't want to use you like that."

"Yeah, I'll tell you." Shane began walking back towards the street, hearing Ryan follow behind him. And he knew full well that he wouldn't tell Ryan anything of the sort.

* * *

"So wait, you speak four languages, no, _five_ languages, and you don't think you're a bit overqualified?"

Ryan shrugged, still pushing through the screws and bolts for the appropriate one for the shelves. "Well, I'm not multilingual or anything. Like, I'm fluent in Spanish and French, pretty good at Vietnamese, but my Russian is a bit shaky."

Shane rolled his eyes at him. "And here I am, barely able to speak English."

"Oh, come on. You used the word 'palatial' the other day."

Shane grinned, still sitting back against the wall, the instructions for the bookshelves in hand. Not that he was reading them. "I read a lot."

"Well I find that hard to believe, seeing as you spend most of your time in work drinking coffee and being snarky with me."

"I'm not being snarky," he laughed, elbows resting on his knees as he watched the other man finally slot the last shelf in. "I'm micromanaging."

Ryan gave him a wry look. "You can't manage me."

"I try, but you're just too wild."

Ryan sat back on his knees with a sigh, shaking his head. "Right. Well, thanks for being absolutely no help at all."

"I'm being a friend," said Shane with a raised eyebrow. "A nice, distant friend."

Ryan got to his feet, dusting his hands off, like he'd been working at the forge all day instead of just whipping up an IKEA bookshelf. "Don't get _too_ distant."

"Hm? What was that?"

"I said do you want food?"

Shane nodded, looking up at him over his glasses. "Do you even cook?"

Ryan pressed his lips together, gaze averted. "Uh, a little. Sometimes. Do you like cheesy bread?"

"Ryan, you said _food_. Not a snack." He pushed himself to his feet with a sigh, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt more firmly. "And even though I most definitely should not do this, I'll make food for us."

Ryan followed him to the kitchen area, sitting down as he watched the taller man rifle through his cupboard and fridge, noisily. "You don't have to. I don't want to be, y'know, what you said earlier."

"Using me for emotional fulfillment?" Shane shrugged, keeping his back to him as he worked. "It's half my fault too. I shouldn't be letting you. Where are your pots?"

"Under there." Ryan folded his arms on the table, resting his head on them as he looked the other man up and down. He had a nice manner about him, a relaxed way to his walk, to his movements. Strikingly different to Ricky. "What are you making?"

"Oh, I'm gonna make something that resembles our current relationship, which is a big ol' mess that still tastes good."

Ryan laughed, shaking his head. "Right. I look forward to it." A pause. "Do you want me to help?"

Shane half-turned to look at him, the lights from under the cupboards making him appear quite soft indeed. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

So Ryan helped him. For about ten minutes. He put down the knife he was using, his gaze watching the other man's hands. He had nice hands, and even as he watched he couldn't help but notice how surprisingly gently they moved. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. He could hear a jar being popped open, Shane humming to himself.

"I like this," he said quietly, looking up at the taller man. "And I'm sorry that we can't have it right now."

Shane lowered his gaze before turning back to the counter, his hand distractedly setting the pot down on the hob. "I'd believe it more if you'd tell me _why_ you can't have it."

Ryan didn't reply for a moment. "It's complicated."

"I'm sure it is."

"It is," he replied, with enough intensity to make Shane raise an eyebrow down at him. "It is. And I can't tell you because I'm not allowed. I swore never to tell. Literally took an oath. It's-"

"Jesus, Ryan, calm down." Shane placed a hand on the shorter man's shoulder, giving it a rub with his thumb. "The last thing I want to do is pressure you, man. I get that something's going on." A small shrug. "And you can tell me when you're ready to tell me. Whenever."

Ryan looked up at him, an oddly helpless look on his face. He really, really wished Shane had snapped at him, or argued, or demanded that he tell him. But having him being so understanding, so calming, so grounded... It was making it difficult to handle. But before he could speak, Shane did.

"I haven't had, well, feelings for someone in a while," said Shane quietly, his hand holding the jar of sauce, but not moving it at all. "I mean years. I just don't tend to let myself. But I have feelings for you." He swallowed, clearing his throat. "I do have feelings for you. And it's been a long time since I've had feelings like this. So I don't want to run it into the ground, you know?" 

Ryan nodded, searching the half of his face he could see. "Yeah."

"I'm okay with this." Shane smiled, a small one, his gaze still lowered. "I'm okay with whatever we're doing right now. If you just want to hang out, or just do stupid stuff like go to Target or IKEA or anything, I'm okay with it." He finally turned his eyes to Ryan's again, leaning on the counter. "I'm willing to wait for you, I guess. Is what I'm trying to say."

Ryan nodded again, feeling just a whole lot choked up. "Okay."

"Okay." Shane smiled again, that adorably small one, his eyes crinkling with it. "So c'mon. Get back to chopping."

Ryan watched him turn back to the counter, reach for the jar. His hand found the back of the taller man’s neck, and he pulled him down, and he kissed him. A quick but hard kiss. There was a silence. Neither of them pulled away. Ryan stepped back, leaning back against the counter, eyes closed, his lips still parted slightly. He could feel the taller man move in front of him, feel his breath against his mouth, feel the heat from his body. Ryan couldn’t open his eyes. He could barely breathe.

Softly, ever so softly, the taller man leaned in, pressing their lips together again. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing hold of the counter either side of him, anything to keep him upright. At first, he kissed him back, just as gently, just as warily, like two teenagers experiencing their first nerve-racking kiss. But they were not two teenagers, and this was not their first kiss, and they made this very clear very quickly.

Ryan slipped his arms around the taller man’s shoulders, feeling Shane’s hands rest on his waist, the kiss still slow, and curious. The shorter man let his mouth open, a hand running up through Shane’s thick hair as he felt the taller man’s tongue meet his, the hands tightening on his waist, pulling him forwards so that their bodies were pressed together. Ryan let his head tilt back, their mouths working harder now, Shane’s arms slipping around his waist, hands pushing up his back, fingers digging into him. The counter bumped against Ryan’s back as the two men stumbled slightly, Shane’s hand grabbing hold of a cupboard handle, his other arm still wrapped around Ryan, feeling the firm body, the heat through his t-shirt. And by now they were oblivious to where they were, why they were there, their mouths glued together, ravaging each other as they stumbled against the counter again, Ryan letting out a quiet gasp with the impact, their arms still wrapped tight around each other. It was messy, and steamy, and passionate, both of them letting low moans escape as they got deeper into the moment, into the feeling of the other pressed against them. Ryan pulled the taller man down harder, Shane pinning him against the counter with his body, their hands grasping each other, their mouths slotting together, fierce and hot. Shane let out another desperately quiet moan, his hands pushing up Ryan’s back to his shoulders, the shorter man tilting his head right back to accommodate their heights, their proximity. His hand grabbed the back of Shane’s neck hard as he felt the taller man slip a leg between his, making him feel jittery in all the right ways. The kiss grew deeper, harder, they were going further, wrapped up in each other, Ryan subtly grinding his hips forwards, hearing the contents of the cupboard beside his head rattle as Shane’s hand landed on it hard.

Ryan pushed forwards, guiding Shane back towards the table, but the taller man quickly showed that he didn't need any guidance. He bent down slightly to pick the other man up, Ryan swiftly hopping onto him, legs around his waist, letting Shane sit him on the table, push him flat on it, their mouths working together, Shane's hands running down his chest, his stomach, his touch hot through the thin white fabric of the t-shirt. Ryan pulled him in hard as he felt his t-shirt hitch up, Shane's hands slipping up under it, exploring him. His own hands fumbled to undo the man's shirt, wanting to get more, needing to get more.

"Fuck, _fuck_ , Shane," he breathed, feeling the mouth just brush his neck. His words were quiet, weak. "Don't. Don't do that."

A silence. "Why not?"

Ryan swallowed hard, still able to feel the warm breaths against his skin. "...I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself."

Shane was about to pull away, until he felt the shaky hand rest on the back of his neck, pulling him back in. He pressed his lips to Ryan's neck, running his tongue over his skin, hearing the trembling breaths, feeling the shorter man wrap himself tighter around him. Really, he was a bit surprised at the effect he was having on the other man. Ryan had hid his desperation a lot better than he had, it seemed. He pulled Ryan back upright, lifting him off the table, their heavy-lidded eyes locked as Shane moved them to the couch. And dinner was swiftly downgraded as a different priority took its place.

* * *

"You _what?"_

"We just made out for a while," said Shane with a small grin, heading down the steps outside the Treasury with Sara. "A long while. In his apartment."

She laughed. "Well damn. You just go around asking for trouble, don't you?"

"God, Sara, you don't get it." He walked backwards in front of her, shoulders relaxing as he recalled the memory from the day beforehand. "His body is _smokin'_. Red-hot. Yowza. And the best part is that _he_ started it."

"Yeah, well-"

"No, no, the best part was when he got on top," he quickly corrected, heading out the gates with her, past the security. "He like, sat across me and he had his hands on my chest and I'm just saying that I _know_ he's into that cowgirl style. Yeehaw, babyyy."

"Yeah, well," she repeated heavily. "As much as I'm _very_ happy that your sex life is developing so favorably during this kidnapping investigation, I still don't think you should've brought those books out of the building."

"I won't eat or drink while reading them. I swear."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "But it's like, an office-wide rule. Those books can't leave."

He tapped his bag. "Yes they can. And Ryan's been scribbling in them every damn day but won't show me what he's scribbling, so I'm just gonna find out myself!"

"Well I'm gonna deny any knowledge of it if you fuck them up, man." She stopped at the lights, waving at him. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yup!"

He whistled as he continued on down to the metro, hands in his coat pockets. Things were beginning to look up a bit, it seemed. The only thing that could ruin his mood now would be if he saw Goldsworth. His card beeped against the turnstall. The station was basically empty this late, just large and grey and shiny, lights luminescent. He wandered towards the escalator, leaning against the black handrail as it went down, scrolling through his phone. He felt the rail shake slightly, indicating someone else doing the same. Another late night commuter. Whatever.

His footsteps echoed against the stone as he headed towards the platform. The next train was due in four minutes. He pulled a face before going back to his phone, his other hand in his pocket. The bag stayed close by his side, heavy with the two books he’d swiped. Oh, Ryan wouldn’t mind. They’d be fine!

It wasn’t the footsteps that made him look at the only other person on the platform. It was the way the footsteps came off the escalator, then stopped, then started again. A pensive pause. He turned his head, looking at the woman further down. She was now changing out of her heels, slipping on runners. She smiled at him. He paused before smiling back, a small one, not quite convincing. Then he turned his eyes back to the empty tracks in front of him. It was the woman from the van. Her smile was the same; sly, just a bit threatening. He put his phone away, standing up a bit straighter, clearing his throat. The train was two minutes away. He could hear it roaring quietly, getting closer. He turned his head, seeing the other passengers on the other line, heading further into the city. Their train was due in three minutes. That was good. His gut was telling him that being alone with this woman was a mistake. So he wandered further down the platform, away from her, casual. His fingers remained clamped on his bag, on the books in them. He spared a sidelong glance over his shoulder. Yes, she was following. Oh  _fuck_ , she was following. He stopped. She stopped. She smiled. He didn’t.

Shane took out his phone again, sending a panicky text, his fingers shaking slightly.  _Who was the woman in the van?_

_…_

_What? I don’t know. you still around ? im hungry_

Shane pressed his lips together in a line, glaring at his phone.  _She’s here, ryan. on the platform with me_

…

_don’t move_

Well what a way to not be entirely fucking ominous. Shane took a quiet, shaky breath, seeing the woman out of the corner of his eye, still hovering. The train was due in one minute, beginning to get deafening now. Shane could hear the train on the opposite platform getting louder and louder. If he stayed, he’d be alone with the woman. And there wasn’t many places to hide in the subway. He took out his phone again.

_I’m getting on. i’ll get off at the next stop_

…

_no shane stay where you are_

_…_

_just meet me at the next stop_

_…_

_don’t get on the fucking train_

_…_

_already on it! xxx_

Shane slipped his phone back into his pocket, sitting across from the elderly lady, the only other person on this carriage. He leaned forwards, looking up through the carriages. More people. Great! He was fine. He looked down the carriages. The woman was coming right up towards him, eyes fixed on his face. Shit! Maybe he wasn’t fine. He pulled himself to his feet, beginning to walk away, the rattling of the train moving making it difficult to hear the woman fearlessly opening the door to his carriage. The slam made him notice, his head whipping around to look at her. Okay, she had something in her hand. It was under her coat for now, but he didn’t need to see it to know that it was bad news for him. He hurriedly pulled open the doors between the carriages, shoving through, continuing on, holding onto the handrails above his head for balance as he moved quickly. The bag bumped against his hip with each step. He heard the door open and close behind him again. The people on the subway didn’t even spare him a glance. He kept going, his heart hammering in his chest. He could see her reflection in the windows, swiftly gaining on him. He positively skidded to a halt against the next door, wrenching it open, slamming it behind him. Then he paused, and he stayed there, hands on the handle, holding it closed. The woman tried it, glaring at him. He raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile on his face. This smile dropped as she raised the knife, tapping the point against the glass between them. He stared at her, face paling, his hands white-knuckled on the handle. Then she used it to point downwards, at the bag still by his side. She then raised her hand, gesturing inwards.  _Give me that_. He shook his head.  _Nope_. She raised the knife, mimicking stabbing herself in the neck, her eyes rolling as she pretended to try and stop the imaginary blood from pouring everywhere. She straightened up, pointing at him through the glass. He stared back, wide-eyed.

“What the fuck?”

She knocked on the glass with the handle of the knife, her responding voice muffled. “Give me the books, idiot!”

“No!”

“Just let me in! I wanna talk.”

“Who  _are_ you?”

She blinked at this, looking genuinely surprised. Then she smiled. “He hasn’t told you.”

Shane frowned at this, still holding the door shut. People were beginning to look at this shouted conversation with open curiosity. “Will  _you_ tell me, strange woman?”

“Give me the books, I’ll tell you whatever you want!”

“Pass.”

The train screeched to a slow halt, their eyes still locked, the lights from the platform casting their faces in shadow, then in light, then in shadow again. He didn’t even notice Ryan skidding to a halt outside the train, hands pressed to the window, eyes wide as he panted for breath. The doors thunked open.

“Shane!” 

Ryan slid to a stop beside him, grabbing his arm, his eyes fixed on the woman through the glass. She waved at him with the knife. He flipped her off. Then he quite literally dragged Shane out of the train, up the steps to the surface, not caring that the taller man stumbled every few steps with the pace they were going at.

“Ryan. Ryan, get your fucking-” Shane wrenched his arm from the shorter man’s grip as they reached the busy street, breathless. “You and me need to talk. We need to talk right now. Do you understand me?”

Ryan looked up at him with just his eyes, hands on his hips as he caught his breath. He’d raced through the streets to reach the station on time. “Why?”

“Because that woman who just tried to murder me wanted  _these_ books very badly, and-”

“You brought the fucking books out of the Treasury?!” Ryan glared at him, the most angry Shane had ever seen him. “You fucking idiot, Shane! For God’s sake, what is your problem?”

“Don’t fucking-”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Ryan seemed ten times more on edge as he glanced around the bustling street, one hand still on Shane’s arm, the other on the bag. “Don’t open your stupid mouth until we get back. Don’t.”

“What?” Shane allowed himself to be dragged towards the road. It wasn’t like he could fight back, anyway. “I’m not going back to work at ten at night, Ryan!”

“Yes, you are.” 

“Get off me!”

Ryan bundled him into the nearest taxi, slamming the door after him. For a few seconds, Shane sat in stunned silence, bag on his lap, clasped in his hands. Then the other passenger door opened, and Ryan sat in, still fuming. He pulled the bag from Shane’s hands, holding it in his own, arms folded protectively around it as he glared out the window. Shane did the same, blatantly ignoring the other man. They didn't speak a word, not until they were crossing the front lawn of the Treasury, Ryan because he had to return the books, and Shane because he wanted his bag back. There were still a few lights on in the building. Shane refused to utter a word, hands shoved in his coat pockets. Right up until he heard Ryan mutter.

"This is why we wouldn't work out."

Shane glared at the back of his head. "Sorry, want to speak up?"

" _This_ is why we wouldn't work out!" shouted Ryan, spinning to face him, the bag still in his clenched fist. "It's not because I won't tell you something, it's because _you_ won't respect the fact that I have a fucking boundary up!"

"It doesn't count as a boundary since it's affecting my fucking life, Ryan!" Shane jabbed a finger into his chest, each word fierce. "Whatever the fuck is going on here has _me_ in danger! Not just you!"

"You're putting your damn self in danger, Shane! I told you not to take these fucking books out of the building!"

"Why not?" he demanded, glaring at him. "Why can't I do that? They're just fucking books!"

"I can't tell you!"

"Then fuck you!"

"Fuck you!" shouted Ryan, his eyes sparking with anger. Then he pulled the books in question from the bag, shoving it back at its owner. "Get lost. Go home."

"Excuse me?" Shane shrugged the now-empty bag back onto his shoulder, still determined to get an answer once and for all. "Ryan. Ryan, get back here."

"Go. Home."

Shane followed him doggedly, grabbing his arm, yanking him back. "Don't you aaAAA _AAH!"_

He dropped to his knees instantly, the pain shooting up through his arm to his elbow as Ryan tightened the hold on his hand. His other hand grabbed Ryan's wrist, fingers digging in, but the other man barely seemed to notice. Shane gritted his teeth to stop any other pained sounds coming from his mouth. Ryan was glaring right down at him, his free arm still holding the books. 

"Ryan." The name was pushed out through gritted teeth, Shane's arm trembling with the strain of the hold. "Get- Get off me."

"Go home, Shane." Ryan didn't let go, didn't take his eyes away as Shane let his head hang, his shoulders visibly tense. "Now."

Shane shook his head. "No. Not until you - _fuck_ \- not until you tell me what's going on."

"Shane." He met the man's furious gaze, seeing the determined set of his jaw. "Don't make me hurt you."

Shane didn't reply, his arm positively burning. He let out a shaky breath as Ryan finally released him, the shorter man turning away, continuing across the lawn towards the pave stones. He closed his eyes as he heard the other man push himself to his feet, immediately following.

"Ryan, stop pushing me away." He strode across the grass after him, clutching his arm to his chest. "I don't understand-"

He was cut off as the other man swiftly turned, throwing a hard punch, hitting him right in the stomach, forcing the air from his lungs in one violent cough. But to his surprise, Shane managed to stay upright, stumbling sideways as he folded over. He teetered dangerously, still doubled over as he sucked in a lungful of air. Ryan watched him in silence, watched him force himself to straighten up again, hands on his hips as he panted for breath. 

"That was dirty," he gasped, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to focus on anything but the pain in his arm, his gut. "Jesus Christ. Where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?"

Ryan looked him up and down. "Would you be insulted if I said that I'm surprised you're still conscious?"

"You were hoping to take me out, huh?" Shane watched him for a moment, hands still on his hips, breathing still uneven. "I- Yeah, I'm a little insulted. But I've been in my fair share of fisticuffs, little guy."

"Right."

Shane pointed at him, a casual gesture. "Ah, you're smiling. I can see it."

Ryan shook his head, turning away. "Go home, Shane. Please."

Shane stayed where he was, realizing that perhaps following him wouldn't end up in a nice chat. "Fine. I'll go."

" _Thank_ you."

He didn't go. He headed up into the building about ten minutes after Ryan, pushing a hand through his hair as he stood in the quiet foyer, listening. He could hear voices, coming from the corridor across the way. Staying quiet, he moved towards them, stepping as carefully as though he was on a floor of broken glass. Then he paused, leaning against the wall, hearing none other than Ryan Bergara's voice.

"No, it was definitely her. I saw her close up, man."

Steven responded. "For real? Shit."

"Yeah."

"I _knew_ she was lying to us," came Jazzmyn's relaxed voice. "I knew they were both lying to us. Snakes."

"So what does that mean? That Tucson's on?"

Shane leaned forwards at the name of the town, his eyes glued to the floor as he listened so hard he thought his head might explode.

"For you two, maybe," said Ryan, sounding a bit concerned. "I don't know about Shane though, guys. He's getting... nosy."

 _Fuck you. I'm not nosy_.

"And you're getting a bit too close to him, right?" said Andrew, his monotone unmistakable. "Tinsley's gonna hate that, man."

Shane took a small step forwards. _Come on, Ryan. Spit it out. What are all of you up to?_

"I don't know," said Ryan quietly. "He's just... difficult."

_Difficult? What am I, an unruly child?_

Shane didn't get to continue his eavesdropping. The hand tangled in his hair, dragging him around, forcing a yelp from his mouth. And shit, if he thought Ryan had hit hard, he didn't know half of it. Goldsworth drove his fist up into his stomach without even a thought of holding back. Shane fell to the marble floor, one hand pressed to it, the other clutching his stomach as he tasted stinging bile at the back of his throat. The kick struck him in the side, hard enough to lift him off the floor, throwing him hard onto his back, his head striking marble as he cursed loudly. Goldsworth was on him in seconds, sitting across his chest, pulling him up by his shirt collar before punching him directly in the face. Shane's head snapped back, the metallic taste of blood swiftly filling his mouth. The next punch struck him across the face, the blood from his mouth splattering the marble, like a damn Tarantino flick. He shoved a hand into Goldsworth's face, suddenly very, _very_ afraid that the next punch would be one too many.

"Hey! Hey, get the fuck off him!"

The hands grabbed Goldsworth, dragging him off Shane, and then Ryan was in his face, eyes wide with concern. "Shane? Are you-"

"Get off me!" Shane rolled onto his front, spitting the blood from his mouth, letting it drip to the floor. He made a messy attempt at wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, instead just spreading the blood, and the pain. "Fucking hell. _Fuck_."

Ryan stayed kneeling beside him, raising his head to glare darkly at Ricky, who smiled back sweetly from amid the other concerned faces. "Shane, I'll take you home."

"No. No, you'll stay the hell away from me. Shit." He pushed himself to his feet, a bit unsteady, throwing a look at Goldsworth that was positively murderous. "I'll take my fucking self home."

"Shane." Ryan stood beside him as the taller man strode out the doors, still wiping at his mouth, looking at his bloodied hands. "Shane, you're not walking anywhere like that."

"I'll-"

"I have my car," he said firmly. "You're not taking the subway like that."

Shane came to a slow halt, bloodstained hands on his hips, reddening the white shirt. "Fine. Fine, just don't talk the entire time."

"Fine. Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/xfWe1HNaZ-M
> 
> this song is a MOOD for the beginning of the chapter and also i love this song what a bop


	8. Wolves Without Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work drinks mark the beginning of a night that doesn't end.

The blood swirled in the water. Shane took another mouthful from the tap, swilling it around his mouth before spitting it out again. He leaned on the sink, hands gripping the edge, glaring down at the running water. When he eventually raised his gaze to the mirror, Ryan was still there behind him. Lingering in the doorway.

"I said go away, Ryan."

"Come on, dude." He stood about halfway visible, one hand on the door frame. "Don't take it out on me."

"Don't take it out on you?!" Shane turned at this to glare directly at the other man, deciding a reflection of a glare wasn't powerful enough. "Your ex-boyfriend just tried to put my damn teeth through my skull. Any chance he heard about yesterday, huh?"

Ryan shrugged awkwardly, swallowing. "Steven gossips."

"Steven gossips," repeated Shane witheringly, his eyes narrowing. "Well Steven's not the one who gets physically assaulted because of it. I mean, what the fuck?"

Ryan lowered his gaze as the taller man strode past. He stayed leaning forwards against the wall, facing the empty bathroom, one hand resting on the door frame. "I didn't know he'd do that."

"Oh, did you not?"

"You shouldn't have been listening in, Shane. He said he didn't-"

"He said he didn't know who I was from behind. Yeah. Sure." Shane gestured down at himself, arms spread. "Yes, I forgot just how _easily_ I blend in with others. And I'll tell you something, Ryan. He knew who I was from the front, and he sure as hell let loose then."

Ryan stood with his hands on his hips, lips pressed together in a firm line. The silence lingered. "I don't know what you're looking for here, Shane."

"You're the one who came in here after me. Even though I locked the door. Because you can somehow pick a lock with a fucking _credit card_." Shane came towards him, looking very, very pissed indeed. "You speak five languages. Six including English. You run like you were born onto the set of _Die Hard_. You're strolling around the place with bust knuckles and black eyes and your self-defense isn't exactly amateur, from what I've recently had the luck to experience."

Ryan kept his eyes on the taller man's, sidelong, his head tilted up slightly. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Shane searched his eyes, looming over him. "That's all you have to say?"

"Well what do you _want_ me to say, Shane?"

"I want you," said the taller man slowly. "To tell me the truth."

Ryan still didn't look away. "About what."

"About you. About your 'Treasury' job." 

A silence. "I don't know what you mean."

"Jesus _Christ_ , Bergara." The words were rough with anger, making Ryan take a deep breath. "I'm not a fucking idiot. _Nothing_ about you adds up."

"I- I just-" He paced away. Then he paced back. "Okay. Okay, shit. I- I'm-"

Shane waited very impatiently indeed for the sentence to be completed. "You're what, Ryan? What are you?"

Ryan bounced on the spot for a moment before pacing away again, this time not stopping as he strode back and forth. "I- I can't tell you, dude! It's not that I don't _want_ to, it's not that I don't _trust_ you or anything, it's that I'm literally not allowed! At all! Ever!"

"This is tearing me up inside, Ryan! Come on!" He watched the shorter man continue pacing. "I need to know!"

"I CAN'T!" Ryan linked his hands behind his head, elbows coming together as he leaned back, groaning in frustration. "Shit. _Shit_ , I just- I just can't tell you! I'm sorry!"

Shane could feel his heart racing, as if he'd run a marathon. "You are driving me goddamn insane, you know that, Ryan?"

Ryan looked at him, eyes wide, pleading. "I'm not doing it on purpose."

Shane turned away, sitting down on the couch with a whole lot of attitude. Ryan stayed where he was, hands pressed together in front of his closed mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was to force the other man away. But he knew that trying to keep him close was unfair. He knew it was unfair on Shane. He closed his eyes, opening them only once he heard the other man's voice.

"Then I don't want to do this, Ryan." He got to his feet, hands on his hips as he strode towards him. "I don't want to do whatever we've been doing if- if you're going to keep things from me, or if your crazy ex is going to beat my ass whenever I even put a hand on you. I'm not getting involved with you if all this secrecy is going to come with it. Alright?"

Ryan nodded, teeth gritted in a look of grim acceptance. "Alright."

"Alright?" Shane looked at him, eyebrows raised. "That's it?"

"How about we talk about this tomorrow. When we don't have to go out for work drinks." Ryan checked his phone. "They've probably left work by now."

"Oh, is that why you were all gathered there, huh?"

Ryan raised his eyes to meet Shane's at the dubious tone. "Yes."

"Oh sure." Shane rolled his stiff shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't gonna go anyway." 

"Yeah you were." Sara finished her drink, emerging from her room. "You said it earlier."

"Shut up, Sara. Damn."

"Come on." Ryan stood up, avoiding the taller man's eyes. "Let's just go."

So they just went. 

* * *

"I think they're having a little tiff."

"Well they're not acting like it."

"They're just talking," said Sara, giving the rest of the table a long look. "About stuff. They're both super confused. In the Uber they agreed they're gonna take a break from... whatever they're doing."

"I know. It's hilarious. Because they absolutely aren't." Kelsey grinned. "I mean, Ryan is _desperate_ for that dick. Look at his face."

"He's just like that," shrugged Andrew, his beer halfway to his mouth. "He stares a lot."

"Uh, no, he keeps rubbing the back of his neck." Steven pointed at them all. "That's a sign. And look, man, he's biting his lip. He wants him. Like, _wants him_ wants him."

"Well how about you don't tell Ricky that this time," said Andrew cuttingly. "Idiot."

Steven pulled a face. "Yeah. That was my bad."

Everyone kept drinking. Their coworkers moved on in their shenanigans. But Shane and Ryan barely left each other's sides. For the rest of the evening, they found themselves drifting together, drifting apart from the others, despite their agreed break. And Ryan came to realize that he was folding. His determination not to let Shane get close was fizzling out with each soft smile from the other man, with each joke, with each light touch. Oh, it was fizzling out alright. But another fire was just growing hotter.

"Ugh, guess I'll just let Thanos get the mind stone and fucking _die_."

"He's the most useless Marvel character of all time."

"Yes!"

"Hands down."

"Hands. Fucking. Down." Shane slapped a hand down on the bar to emphasize his point. "Well, this has got to be the first time I've ever considered hugging you. Like, a passionate embrace."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Dude."

The taller man sighed heavily. "Yeah, I'm sorry. That was too far. I've overstepped my boundaries. My apologies are endless."

"Shane. C'mon." He smiled wryly at him. "I don't hate you."

"Are you sure?"

"Almost."

"Then let's just leave it with a manly slap on the back for now, huh?" grinned Shane, doing just that, watching the other man laugh. His hand slipped around the shorter man's arm, giving it a squeeze. He shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Ryan. What's all that for?"

Ryan felt himself redden as the taller man gave his arm another squeeze. “Uh, what’s what?”

“You’re like, ripped, man.” Shane seemed genuinely puzzled, looking at him. “Not to sound like I think your job is completely and utterly boring, but why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean, what do you use them for, huh? Lifting boxes of old files to the shredder?”

Ryan shrugged, red-faced. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to be.”

“You didn’t mean to be super fucking hot?” Shane laughed, continuing on. “If there was ever a mistake I needed to learn how to make, it’s that one.”

Ryan looked him, one eye narrowed. “You think I’m hot?”

Shane looked back, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“You just said that I’m, uh, super fucking hot.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Oh my God. You did.”

“Well I didn’t- Oh, stop smiling about it. It’s not exactly an unknown fact.”

“I’m not smiling about it!” smiled Ryan, smiling.

Shane took another sip of his drink, his gaze drifting to the other man's mouth. He couldn't be reading this wrong. There was no way he was reading it wrong. Even despite the break, he was flirting with Ryan, and Ryan was flirting back hard. He put his beer down, pressing his lips together to get rid of any foam residue. Ryan had turned back to face the bar, his gaze lowered as he took a mouthful of his own drink. Shane watched his face, realizing that this was the true definition of a pretty boy. He was just  _pretty_. Maybe he didn't want this break after all. Not physically, anyway.

"C'mon." Shane got to his feet as he heard yet another song from  _Dirty Dancing_  come on, giving the shorter man a pat on the shoulder. "Dance with me."

"Dance with you?" Ryan snorted. "Absolutely not."

"It's a good song. Real  _sexy_." He took hold of the other man's hands, pulling him to his feet, Ryan falling against him. "C'mere, loverboy. Loosen up a little."

Ryan allowed the taller man to slip his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. "Okay. Alright. I'll dance."

"Mm." Shane took hold of the shorter man's hand, feeling Ryan's other hand move off his shoulder, rest against his neck. "You're stiff, Ryan. Wait, are you sober?"

"Essentially."

"Ah. Bad way to be." Shane looked down his nose at him, but not in the condescending manner. His eyes were heavy-lidded, thoughtful. "Why aren't you drinking like the rest of us, hm?"

Ryan kept his gaze lowered, his face inches from the other man's chest. He wanted to move just that bit closer, close enough to rest his head on it. But he couldn't, so he didn't. "Oh, you know. In case I do something stupid."

"The alcohol gets to you, does it?"

 _Not really_. "Yeah. A bit."

"What gets to you more," began Shane, still leading them in a slow circle, moving to their own rhythm. He ignored the sound of Steven crying in the background. It was reaching that stage alright. "Alcohol, or me?"

Ryan laughed, shaking his head. "They effect me in completely different ways. Alcohol makes me do stupid things. You  _are_  a stupid thing." He felt the heat rush to his face before he even got the sentence out. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean anything by that. It came out wrong. Shit."

Shane nodded, trying to hold in his laughter. "Calm down, man. It's fine. I get it."

"But I didn't- It just sounded like a really,  _really_  bad pick-up line."

"As if you could make up a better one."

Ryan raised his eyebrows at this, tilting his head back to look at him. "Excuse me?"

"Smooth words aren't exactly your forté, are they?" smiled Shane, a teasing gesture. "But you're lucky. You don't need them."

Ryan looked a bit confused for a second, looking aside, unaware of Shane's eyes drifting down to his mouth, unaware of him taking a quiet breath. "I don't need... Wait, was that a  _compliment_?"

Shane shrugged, but he was smiling. "You've done alright in the whole, uh, face area. I'll admit."

"I'm alright in the face area." Ryan lowered his head in an unexpectedly bashful manner, biting his lip. "Well thanks. I want that on my gravest..."

His sentence trailed off into silence as he lifted his head again, finding that the taller man had leaned in a surprising amount. Their noses slipped past each other, Ryan's hand sliding down from Shane's shoulder to his chest, taking a fistful of his shirt. His other hand found its way around the back of Shane's neck, feeling Shane's own hands on his waist, pulling him in. _Just dancing_. Ryan swallowed, his breath trembling.  _Nothing else. Shit_. He could feel the taller man breathing, their bodies pressed together. He couldn't help it. He could never help it.  _Oh shit_.

"Oh shit!"

Kelsey's yell was out just before the sound of Steven attempting to stifle his own retching as he ran for the toilets. Their coworkers cheered him, clapping, Jazzmyne going in after him. And what a way to ruin the mood. Shane straightened up again, seeing the badly-hidden smile on the shorter man's face. He reluctantly let him slip away, pressing his lips together in a line as he accepted the fact the moment had passed. He hoped Steven would be vomiting all night and all day. He sat down beside the others, hearing them already mercilessly slagging Steven for being such a weak baby. 

"Scooch over."

Shane did so, allowing room for Ryan to slip in beside him. He took the offered drink, an eyebrow raised. "Oh. Thanks."

Ryan raised his own with a grin. "You tempted me."

"Ah. I had no intention."

"Mm."

Shane didn't take his eyes from Ryan's face as he took a sip, swallowing it. Maybe the moment hadn't passed after all. And the one thing he decided that he absolutely despised about Ryan Bergara was how he flirted with his eyes. Shane couldn't handle it. Each time he met his gaze he felt breathless, like the wind had been knocked out of him. _So much for a break, Madej. You're struggling after, what, three hours?_ But after Ryan finished his drink, he reached for his coat, getting to his feet. Shane glanced up at him.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” Ryan shrugged. “I have an early start. Got to get home.”

“Okay.” Shane got to his feet with an easy smile. “I’ll walk you to the train.”

Ryan laughed, shrugging on his jacket. “You’ll  _walk_ me?”

“Yeah,” grinned Shane. “Make sure you’re safe.”

The shorter man shook his head, eyes closed. “You just- Fine. Fine, you can walk me.”

“Oh, thank you.”

They slipped out of the bar, into the relative silence of the street. Ryan zipped his jacket up as they started walking, footsteps loud against the pavement. He kept his gaze on said pavement, feeling his heart flutter in his chest at the feeling of the taller man beside him. He was walking pretty closely, hands in his pockets. And for the first time since they began their almost-affair, Ryan seriously considered just giving in. Just letting the taller man have him for the night, and then deal with the consequences afterwards. Shane's arm brushed Ryan’s, making the shorter man’s pulse pick up.  _Oh come on, Ryan. Control yourself_. He knew he'd end up a mess. He could never separate his emotions from sex. He spared a glance up at Shane, his breath catching in his chest as he found that Shane was already looking at him. Shane smiled, an easy gesture. Ryan looked away, suddenly feeling a bit unsteady. It appeared he couldn't separate his emotions from anything at all. They were walking slowly, just a bit closer together than necessary. Ryan swallowed. 

“What’s your early start for, hm?”

Ryan sighed heavily. “Work.”

“But it’s a Saturday, Ryan.” He sounded truly confused. “The Treasury doesn’t open on weekends, right?”

“Not to the public, no. But some parts still operate.” Ryan waited for a minute to see if Shane could detect that this was indeed a big fat lie. “It’s just for an hour or so, though.”

“That sucks.”

“Wait, doesn’t the FBI work 24/7?”

“Yeah, but we only come in on weekends if we're called in. So don't call me.” Shane laughed. “You won’t catch me in that building from Friday evening to Monday morning, I’ll tell you that.”

Ryan smiled dryly. “I’m not exactly surprised.”

“You don’t think I’m a hard worker?”

“I think you choose your times to work hard,” replied Ryan with a wry glance, seeing the equally wry smile on the other man’s face. “And you choose them badly.”

“My priorities can be a bit wack, I’ll admit.” He shrugged. “But I get shit done.”

“Mm.” Ryan looked up at him. “What’s it like? Being in the field and stuff?”

Shane didn’t reply for a moment, thinking. “It’s nothing like in the movies, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“A little.”

“I’ve never engaged in a fist fight on the wing of a plane about to take off. Unfortunately. Or parkoured my way through multiple buildings in order to strangle a strange and mysterious man named Desh to death in a shower stall.”

Ryan laughed, giving the other man a light slap on the arm. “Is that a Jason Bourne reference?”

“Absolutely,” grinned Shane, looking down at him. “Although I would let Matt Damon kick the shit out of me in any situation. Definitely more than Goldsworth.” He winked. "I might let you, though."

Ryan rolled his eyes. “So you’ve never even been in a life-or-death situation.”

“Hey, no, I didn’t say that.” Shane patted his shoulder, where the holster lay in place under his coat. “I’ve been in a shoot-out or two.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And I’m pretty good at it.”

“Aim?”

“Yeah.” Shane threw him a curious frown, seeing the overly interested look in the shorter man’s eyes as they passed under another streetlight. “You sound very, uh, into it.”

Ryan came to a halt, turning to look up at him. Shane did the same, an eyebrow arched. He looked at the extended hand.

“Can I hold it?”

Shane shook his head, laughing. “I’m actually not allowed.”

“Just for a second!” 

Shane stared at him, lips pursed as he considered it. Ryan smiled up at him. Shane immediately gave in.

“ _Fine_. Just for a second.” Shane reached into his coat, taking the gun out, hesitating for just a moment before passing it over. “The safety’s on, but don’t go pulling the trigger anyway.”

Ryan studied it under the streetlight, turning it over. “A P226? I thought that was only for Navy Seals.”

Shane blinked, looking at him. “You into your guns?”

“Huh?” Ryan glanced up at him, his eyes a bit wide. “No.”

“Hm.” Shane narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re not a Republican, are you?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Good. That would’ve had a big impact on my thoughts about you as a person.”

Ryan took his eyes from the gun, giving him a sidelong look. “And what  _are_ your thoughts about me. As a person.”

Shane half-smiled. “I might ask for the gun back before I answer that.”

Ryan passed it back over, just a bit reluctant. Then he continued walking, hands in his jacket pockets. He heard the gun being pushed back into its holster, Shane’s footsteps just behind him. 

“Well come on.” Ryan turned around, walking backwards as he smiled at the other man. “What do you think about me.”

“Specify.”

A pensive pause. “Do you like me or do you not like me.”

"I like you."

"What about at the beginning?"

“Now that was just circumstantial.” Shane grinned at the dry smile. “For example, some days, I liked you. But until about half eleven every morning, I didn’t.”

“And why not. What did I do that  _really_ got under your skin.”

Shane thought about this for a moment. “I actually can’t pinpoint it.”

“Oh, you wimp.” Ryan stopped walking, Shane almost bumping into him at the sudden halt. “C’mon. Just tell me. I can handle it.”

Shane shrugged. “Well, it’s your holier-than-thou attitude.” 

“Holier-than-thou?”

“Like you think everything I do could’ve been done better,” said Shane with a raised eyebrow. “By you.”

Ryan shrugged. “Everything you do  _could’ve_ been done better by me.”

“There it is.” Shane stepped around him, waving a finger in his face as he did so. “This haughty little thing you have going just gets to me.”

Ryan scowled at the back of his head. “I’m not haughty.”

“Oh  _Ryan_. Come on.”

“Well I’ll work on that if you stop walking around like you own the place.”

Shane paused halfway across the street, waiting for the shorter man to catch up before replying. “Elaborate for me.”

“All like this.” He put on a deep voice, hands on his hips as he sauntered further across the street in an exaggerated mockery of the other man’s walk. “My name’s Shane Madej and I’m a special detective man from the FBI. Yeah, the FBI. Did everyone hear that? Does everyone know I’m from the FBI and have a badge and a gun but no hairbrush?”

“Very funny,” said Shane dryly, his voice coming from surprisingly close by. 

Ryan turned, his heartbeat skipping as he finally saw how close the taller man had come. He had to tilt his head right back to look him in the eyes. Eyes that were watching him so closely it made him feel surprisingly vulnerable. He swallowed, suddenly finding it a bit difficult to keep his breathing steady.

“I’m messing, dude. I like you.”

“And I like you. Even when we're on a break.”

“A break.”

Shane raised a hand, lightly cupping the shorter man’s face. Ryan felt himself flushing furiously, swallowing hard. 

“You have an eyelash, just… there,” said Shane quietly, a small frown on his face as he brushed the offending eyelash away with his thumb. If he was aware of Ryan’s racing pulse under his hand, he didn’t show it. “You believe in wish-making and all that?”

“A bit.”

“Too bad.” Shane rubbed his fingers together, getting rid of the lash. “It’s all bullshit.”

Ryan closed his eyes as the hand rested back against his face, this time with no excuse. But he opened his eyes again almost instantly, having seen something in the window above Shane’s shoulder.

“Shane.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Just- Let’s go in here.” Ryan grabbed hold of his wrist, positively yanking him across the street into a shadowy ally. “Can you, uh, can you pull that down?”

Shane blinked at what he was pointing at. “The fucking fire escape ladder?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“I could. But-”

“Do it. Just do it, quick.”

Shane gave him a confused frown, before shrugging. “Okay.”

Ryan kept his eyes on the entrance to the ally as he heard the ladder grating as it was pulled down, hitting the pavement. “Go up. Go.”

“I- Jesus, okay. Stop shoving me.”

Ryan clambered up the escape after him, pushing at him to keep going. “Next floor. Next one.”

“What the hell is going on, man?” Shane pushed him back as they reached the third floor, breathing heavily from the most exercise he’d done in months. “I can’t do this shit. I’m gonna pass out.”

“Then- Then wait.” Ryan went to the nearest door, giving it a push. It was heavy, but the hinges were old and rusted. “Just stay there.”

He gave it a hard kick, and another, Shane watching in bafflement as the door finally bust open, hanging off one hinge. Ryan pulled him in after him, attempting to shut the door over.

“It’s broken, man.” Shane gestured at the door. “You broke it.”

“Just-”

“And speaking of Jason Bourne movies.” Shane observed the dim, damp hallways, which looked very much abandoned. Doors hung open into various apartments that would’ve cost thousands if they were refurbished. “I don’t think we should be in here.”

“Come with me.” Ryan could hear the fire escape rattling. “Come on.”

Shane was getting a bit pissed now, glowering over his shoulder as Ryan continued shoving him towards the nearest room. “It smells like shit, Ryan. I think there’s a dead body in here.”

“Be quiet. Shut up.”

“Excuse me? Ryan, what the fuck are you doing?”

Ryan continued shrugging his jacket off, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “Just be quiet.  _Please_.”

“Well tell me what the-”

The sentence wasn’t finished. A masked man burst into the room, making Shane yell in shock. Ryan rushed forwards, fists raised, watching the flash of the knife. He ducked under it, blocking the back-slash, firing a punch across the man’s face. The blade clattered to the dried-up carpet. Shane went for it, snatching it off the ground and throwing it far across the room as Ryan and the assailant continued their lightning-fast fistfight that had Shane gaping. He watched as Ryan matched the man move-for-move, not even flinching once, no matter how many times a punch just grazed his face. Shane finally came back to earth with a bump as the attacker caught Ryan out, driving a knee into his side, Ryan cursing loudly as he doubled over. Shane ran up behind the guy, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him backwards. The man returned this act of heroism with a roundhouse kick across the face, sending Shane stumbling out of the way as Ryan came forwards again.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Shane clutched his jaw, on his knees. “What the hell is going on?!”

Ryan didn’t reply. He was too busy getting forced back against the wall, struggling to keep the attacker from landing every single punch. He seemed to be landing every second one instead, keeping Ryan pinned to the wall, laying into him like his life depended on it. Because it did. Ryan gritted his teeth, keeping his arms raised to defend his head, his back hitting against the wall with each punch. He stumbled aside as the man managed to slip past his defense, striking him hard across the face, moving in for another. Ryan's eyes widened as the man seemingly rose into the air out of nowhere. Then he saw Shane’s arms around his waist, pulling him away from Ryan and throwing him bodily across the rickety old table behind them in a flurry of dust and tattered ceiling paper. The man had barely gotten back up when Shane fired multiple rounds at him, keeping the gun trained on him as the attacker fled out the door. Shane ran into the hallway, standing in the doorway as he fired a few more. There was a loud yelp. Shane lowered the gun as the attacker managed to keep running despite the bullet in his leg. He stood for a moment in stunned silence. Then he turned away, striding back over to Ryan, who was using the wall for support as he caught his breath.

“What the fuck was that?”

Ryan leaned back against the wall, head resting back against it as he struggled to get his breathing regular again, one hand resting on his ribs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!” Shane shoved his gun back into his holster, still panting for air. “That guy just tried to straight-up kill you!”

“Us,” corrected Ryan.

“No, not us,” counter-corrected Shane, glowering at him. “Just you. I wasn’t his priority.”

“I don’t know! He wasn’t after me.”

“He was pasting you against that wall, Bergara.” Shane refused to let it go, watching the other man plonk himself down in the nearest chair, head hanging. “And since when the hell can you fight like that?”

“I can’t!” insisted Ryan, raising his head to glare at him. 

“What are you? John Wick’s secret son?”

Ryan spared him a wry glance. “I was just defending myself. Self-defense. Like you said.”

Shane wagged a finger at him, like a teacher scolding a student who’d been caught cheating. “You’re not telling me something here, Bergara. You took those punches like a pro. What’s going on.”

“There’s nothing going on. Jesus.” He got back to his feet, struggling to hide the lingering feeling of every little bruise. “See? He didn’t even punch that hard.”

“Uh, yes he did.” Shane pointed at his own face, where the cut below his eye had started to swell ever so slightly. “I wasn’t just cheering from the sidelines, Ryan. I- Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Ryan looked up at him with wide eyes, like he’d entirely forgotten where he was. “I- I- Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

Shane stared at him in stunned silence. “Are you FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“Stop yelling!” 

“Give me that.”

Ryan yanked his phone out of the other man’s reach, shoving him away. “Let’s just leave here. Before someone wanders in.”

“Well what the hell are we going to do about this?” Shane took out his own phone, turning his back to the shorter man. “I’ll ring the station, tell-”

He heard the screech of a chair behind him. He didn’t get to finish the sentence before Ryan’s arm was around his neck, pressing in on both sides, tight. Shane’s phone clattered to the ground, his hands grabbing hold of the offending arm as he automatically stepped forwards, away from the source. Ryan hopped off the chair as he went with him, legs around his waist.

“Ry-” Shane managed the beginning of an outraged name before he was out like a light. 

He stumbled backwards, landing heavily on top of the shorter man, who let out a winded curse. Then Ryan shoved him off to the side, sitting back on his knees as he took a deep breath.

“Taco Bell,” he muttered, beginning to wonder how exactly he was going to maneuver this lanky son of a bitch out of the building and across the street. “I feel like Taco Bell.”

* * *

Shane lifted his head off the table, blinking slowly, groggily. Someone was shaking his shoulder. He squinted up at them, the name badge flashing.  _Manager_.

“Sir, you can’t sleep in here.”

Shane blinked at her, the lights of the room still blinding. “Am I… Am I in Taco Bell?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yes. You are.”

He stared at her for a moment, blinking, trying to get both of his eyes coordinating again. “Can I get a Crunchwrap Supreme?”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you-”

"I'm not drunk," he said, just a bit too groggy to say it convincingly. "I was with a small ethnically-ambiguous man. Looks a bit like the Littlest Elf."

“Sorry! He’s with me!” 

Shane looked over his shoulder at the owner of the voice, his eyes narrowing. “Ryan Bergara.”

Ryan smiled at him, placing a cup down in front of him. “Coffee. For you.”

Shane took the cup, still watching him suspiciously as he sat down across from him. “What did you do to me.”

“Hm?” Ryan raised his eyebrows, the epitome of innocence. “Nah, dude. I didn’t do anything. It was… that guy.”

Shane arched an eyebrow. “The hit-”

“-junkie.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “That crazy junkie guy.” 

Shane squinted at him. “Hm. What  _did_ happen, exactly.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows again in that adorably naive manner that Shane was beginning to distrust just a little. “Well, I don’t know. How do you remember it?”

“I remember you getting your ass kicked-”

“Nope. Didn’t happen.”

“-and then I shot the guy-”

“Lower your voice, and no, you didn’t.”

“Huh? Yeah I did.”

“No, he knocked you the fuck out. I got rid of him.” Ryan laughed. “Jesus, no one got  _shot_ , Shane.”

Shane stared at him over his coffee before putting the cup down, taking his gun out of his holster. He checked it; no bullets missing. He raised his gaze to Ryan’s again, watching the other man swallow the drink in his mouth. The silence lingered.

“Right.” Shane shoved the ammo cartridge back into the gun with a click before putting it away, folding his arms on the table as he checked the other man over. “Did you call the cops?”

“Yeah, yeah, I sorted all of it.” Ryan smiled again, a charming one. “What matters is we’re both okay.”

 _What matters is I’m pretty sure you choked me the fuck out_. Shane returned the smile, a bit stiffly. He raised his coffee. “Well cheers to us, then.”

“Yeah.” Ryan bumped his slushie off Shane’s coffee, the smile still on his face despite the sharp look in his eyes. “Cheers to us.”

Shane sipped his coffee. Ryan sipped his slushie, the straw slurping. Neither of them looked away from each other for even a second. Shane cleared his throat, gazing lowered as he absent-mindedly popped the lid off his coffee.

“Did he hit you?”

Ryan sniffed. “Hm?”

“You have a bit of a bruise around your eye.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. He might’ve taken a swipe, I don’t know. It was all a bit…” Ryan raised his hands, eyes wide. “…aaaah.”

“Yeah. It was a bit aaah.” Shane still didn’t seem too satisfied with the explanation being handed to him. “Lucky I decided to walk you home, then.”

Ryan looked at him. “Actually, yeah. It is lucky.”

“Apart from the fact you didn’t get home.”

“No. But it was a hell of a walk, right?”

Shane sat back, fingers drumming out a pensive rhythm on the table as he watched the other man closely. “Mm. Right.”

There was a long silence. Ryan sipped at his slushie, trying to act casual, as if his ribs definitely were _not_ cracked. But when he finally raised his gaze, the look on Shane's face almost broke his heart. It was a pleading look, openly upset, and the pain that was clearly in his heart and his head finally made Ryan crumble. It was him causing the pain, after all. He knew it was. And he knew it would happen, right from the start.

"I..." He placed his drink down, sighing heavily. "I can't tell you what I do, but- but is there anything else you want to know? Anything?"

Shane spoke quietly. "Am I in danger here? Is Sara in danger?"

Ryan swallowed, giving the slightest of nods. "Yes."

Shane let his eyes travel over the other man's face, searching, praying for a hint of a teasing smile, a mischievous grin. "How much?"

"It doesn't matter." Ryan reached over the table, took hold of his hand, tight, a determined glint in his eyes. "You won't get hurt when I'm around. I promise."

Shane didn't hold his hand back. He just looked at him, stoney-faced. "Tell me why I'm in danger."

"I can't-"

"Tell me. Now."

Ryan lowered his gaze, biting on his lip as he pondered his options. Then he took his phone from his pocket, and took a deep breath, and started an impromptu slideshow that was really,  _really_  pushing the whole secrecy thing.

"You see her?"

Shane leaned in, looking at the screen, at the 50-something year old woman glaring back. "She was in the Treasury a while ago, right?"

"Her name's Holly Horsley. She's a politician. The bad type."

"They're all bad types. Can't trust the government."

"Shut up." Ryan went to the next photo, seeing Shane's face stiffen. "This is her 'contractor'. Do you know what a contractor is?"

Shane gave him a long look. "As in a 'wet work' contractor? Like in the movies?"

"Yeah."

"So she's a fucking  _assassin_." Shane's gaze drifted, eyes wide. "An assassin was trying to kill me."

"She wasn't trying to kill you. She was trying to get the books." Ryan shrugged. "Wet work doesn't just mean killing. It means doing a task that just, you know, will probably include killing."

"Okay. I feel much safer now."

Ryan held the next photo up. "Do you recognize him?"

"Yeah, that's the chef from the restaurant."

"That's a hitman." Ryan drummed his fingers on the back of his phone. "We don't know whose hired him yet. But those statues and stuff mean something."

Shane searched his eyes, suddenly wishing that he didn't know this information. Everything seemed like a threat now. Was the manager looking at him funky? He wasn't sure. Ryan cleared his throat, putting his phone away, resting his hands on his legs. He looked very small all of a sudden, smaller than usual. He didn't go back to his slushie. Shane shook his head, his voice quiet.

"What sort of shit have you gotten yourself into, Ryan?"

The other man gave a half-hearted shrug. "The usual. The usual shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/VAI5GSyXMjA
> 
> this song is inspo AF for this fic, especially shane + ryan later (i guess shanes POV would be the dude's voice and ryan's would be the girls???its a good ass song)


	9. Dark Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane clashes with his most favorite person in the world. Ryan finally folds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw y'all

"So are we on a break or not, man?"

"I don't know, Shane! It's up to you."

"Don't do that. Come on." He sat in his car outside the Vietnamese restaurant, in the dark, his phone to his ear. The rain pattered against the roof of the car. "I mean, I'm finding it a bit hard to be on a break when I'm seeing you every day."

"Look, I'm almost at Ruth's. I'm gonna ask her about Tucson, and-"

"How is that relevant?" Shane glared out the window; the restaurant had its lights on, but its curtains drawn. Odd. "And are you sure this hitman chef won't decide to smack me around the place? Because if there's a chance he'll do that, I'm gonna pop two painkillers before I head in. Maybe slam a pina colada."

"No, he shouldn't. You're no real threat. No offense." The sound of an engine cutting. "And Tucson is relevant. Remember that escrow agency thing?"

"Vaguely."

"Well that was all in Tucson. So if this keeps going the direction it's going, people are gonna be moved around."

Shane paused at this. "You mean to Arizona?"

"Yeah. To Arizona." Ryan sighed heavily. "Look, can we talk about it tomorrow? I want to get this over with."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Even though it's a weekend."

"Whatever, dude." The sound of a car door opening, slamming closed. "Don't start annoying that chef if he is there, by the way."

"Me? Never."

"God. Text me when you leave the place."

"Bye, Ryan."

"Yeah, bye."

Shane stepped out of his car, into the empty street. Still as run-down as last time. He placed a hand lightly on the statue outside, like it was a stone dog. It was hard, rough under his fingers. He poked its blue stone eye. Hm, it wasn't stone. It was glass. He tapped it again. Yeah, definitely glass. 

He straightened up at the sound of a scream from inside.

"HELP ME! HELP!"

For a moment, he stood in shock. It was the bartender from last time. He hurried to the door, pushing the handle down. It was locked, from the inside. He could hear her screams louder from where he was now, piercing. He pulled at the door handle, shoving it in frustration. Nothing. He ran down the side of the building, the brick cold and wet under his hands as he searched for anything, any doors at all. There was a shattered window, leading into a dark room. He shrugged his suit jacket off, throwing it over the broken glass before hauling himself into the building, landing on the tiles inside. It was a bathroom. He drew his gun, holding it low, aimed at the ground as he made his way into the hall. It was dirty, florescent lights glowing. He could hear her screaming still, making his heart clench.

"I don't know where he went!" Another gut-wrenching scream. "I DON'T KNOW!"

Shane shoved open the next door with his shoulder, into the main restaurant, its low lights bathing the room in a relaxing warmth despite the scene at hand. The bartender had one hand zip-tied to the radiator beside the kitchen door, her face bloodied. Shane had his gun raised already, aiming it right at him. He didn't lower it.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Goldsworth turned at this, openly relaxed. "Put the gun away, Madej. Don't embarrass yourself here."

"Get the hell away from her." He came closer, keeping the gun trained on Goldsworth, one hand under it, his finger resting on the trigger. "Now."

"Stop being dramatic." Goldsworth took the cigarette from his mouth, giving him a lingering look as he turned back to the petrified bartender. "Ryan knows."

Shane froze. "Ryan knows about this?"

"Well no, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him." He took a drag on his cigarette. "And what you don't know won't hurt you. So I'd advise you leave."

Shane looked at the bartender curled up against the wall, her eyes wide with fear. "What are you doing to her?"

"Just asking a few questions."

She opened her mouth. "I don't-"

Goldsworth struck her across the face, a harsh backhand that echoed. She curled up smaller. Shane took a few steps forwards, his heart hammering in his chest. 

"Don't touch her." Shane's grip was slick on the gun. "I mean it, Goldsworth. Back off."

"Get lost, Madej." He didn't turn away from the girl, his fists clenched, ready. "Where did that chef go? Do you know who hired him?"

"No, no, I don't-" She shrieked again as a punch came towards her.

Shane caught his arm, pulling it back. The shorter man shouldered him away with such force Shane stumbled to the floor, the gun tumbling across the carpet. He heard the sound of another punch, a cry of pain. 

“Stop. Stop, Goldsworth!” Shane got back to his feet, feeling like his body was about to tear itself apart. “Goldsworth, stop it! Leave her alone!”

Goldsworth turned at this, not looking at all impressed. “I knew you were a wimp the second I laid eyes on you, you know that?”

Shane didn’t move, his eyes flickering between Goldsworth and the bartender. She was whimpering, her hands still around her head. “She’s seventeen. She’s only seventeen fucking years old. Leave her alone.”

Goldsworth gave him a withering look at he turned away. “Age doesn’t matter when you’re a criminal.”

“How the hell do you know she’s a criminal?” demanded Shane, taking a step forwards. Goldsworth turned his head again at this. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to find out?”

“Shut the-”

“Get away from her.” Shane swallowed, seeing the other man straighten up. “She’s just a fucking bartender. She doesn’t know anything.”

She lifted her head slightly at this, her eyes tear-filled. “I’ve been trying to-”

Shane flinched as Goldsworth struck her again, forcing a scream from her. Before he even knew it, he had Goldsworth by the arm, dragging him back off her, hearing him curse loudly. Goldsworth’s hand tangled in his hair, wrenching his head aside, Shane letting out a yell as the punch landed right across his face. He stumbled against the bar, a hand grabbing it to help him stay upright.

“No!” The bartender tried to stand up, the zip-tie restraining her. “No, stop!”

Shane pushed himself off the bar as Goldsworth turned his attention back to her, moving forwards again, hands scrabbling to hold onto Goldsworth, to drag him back. He ducked under the punch that was thrown, keeping hold of the front of the man’s shirt, shoving him away against the bar. The kick hit him in the chest, sending him sprawling back against the table behind, falling onto it, toppling it to the floor. He pushed himself to his hands and knees amid the glass and cutlery, rolling aside just as Goldsworth’s foot landed where his head had been, glass crunching. He could hear the bartender still screaming for help, this time not for herself. 

“You want to be a hero or some shit, hm?” Goldsworth took him by the collar of his shirt, ramming him bodily into the bar, the chairs flying as Shane fell into them. “C’mon. Get up.”

Shane’s hand found the edge of the bar, pulling himself back upright, breathing heavily through his nose as he watched the other man come towards him again. Shane ducked sideways, stumbling out of the way of the punch, backing away, staying between Goldsworth and the panicking bartender. The shorter man smiled at him, an openly threatening one, more of a snarl than anything else. Shane raised his arms to block the next punch, the impact jarring him all the way to the shoulder. He could see streaks of blood down his forearms from the shattered glass on the ground, but he couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was Goldsworth’s hands on him, flinging him to the floor, back among the tables. Shane scrambled backwards, panting heavily, his eyes stuck on the advancing man. He was almost afraid to stand back up, to open himself to more. Screw it, he was terrified. But he got up anyway, still backing away, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go away!” shouted the bartender, on her feet now, the zip-tie cutting into her. “Run away!”

Shane felt the bar come up behind him again, bumping against his back. He grabbed hold of Goldsworth’s wrists as the man’s hands found his throat, the shorter man pulling him away from the bar just to drive him back against it, Shane’s hair bouncing on his head with the momentum, his head jerking back. Shane shoved a bloodied hand into the other man's face, ignoring the disgusted noise that came from Goldsworth’s mouth. He pushed his thumb into the man’s eye, wrenching his head aside, the two of them stumbling as Goldsworth let out a curse. Shane threw himself the opposite direction, sliding against the bar as he staggered over the fallen stools. He could hear the bartender screaming as Goldsworth tangled a fist in his hair, dragging him back, not caring that Shane fell over the stools, landing on his knees. His fingers dug into Goldsworth’s wrist, on his hands and knees as he was pulled forwards into the knee that struck him hard in the face. Shane cried out, the sound cut off as Goldsworth slammed him into the bar, forcing the air from his lungs. The kick struck him in the side, Shane’s hands barely catching it, lessening the impact somewhat. He ducked under the next kick, still pinned back against the bar, struggling to defend himself as Goldsworth fired kick after kick at him, the bar rattling as Shane was driven back against it over and over.

“HELP!” The bartender was screaming, louder than the sound of glasses falling as Shane was thrown back against the bar again, sliding to the floor, his bloodied arms shaking as he tried to push himself vaguely upright, his side, his ribs aching. “HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP!”

“SHUT UP!” Goldsworth rounded on her, leaving Shane slumped in front of the bar. “C’mere, you little bitch.”

She kicked out as he tried to grab hold of her, his hands slippy with blood that wasn’t exactly his. The sound of clinking glasses made him turn, seeing Shane leaning on the bar, back to him, head hanging. His hands gripped the edge of it, his shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“Stay down, you idiot.” Goldsworth let go of the girl, moving back to Shane. “Don’t make me-”

Shane spun, smashing the glass against the side of the shorter man’s head. The top of it shattered, the splintered glass drawing blood, flying through the air. Goldsworth fell instantly, cupping his bleeding face, swaying on his hands and knees. Shane dropped the reddened glass, leaning back on the bar, chest heaving as he stared at him. He felt sick. Everything ached, burned, his forearms stinging all over. He looked at the bartender, who was staring back, eyes wide in alarm. And even though he was moving like a drunk, Shane pushed himself towards her, clutching his ribs. He fell to his knees as Goldsworth’s fingers grabbed his leg, clawing at him. Shane kicked his hand off, taking a knife from amid the scattered cutlery. He leaned against the wall for support, each breath shaking as he cut through the zip-tie, blood dripping from his mouth. He could see Goldsworth trying to stand up, still clutching his face. 

“Come on.” The bartender grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look back at her. “Follow me.”

“GET BACK HERE!” Goldsworth lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the swinging kitchen doors. “SHANE MADEJ, I’LL KILL YOU!”

Shane followed her through the kitchen as quickly as he could, through another door, still clutching his side, stumbling against the wall of the corridor she was leading him down. She didn’t let go of his hand, pulling him along, hearing the door at the end of the corridor bang open. Goldsworth came through with such momentum he fell against the wall, hands smearing blood down it. His insane eyes were glued to Shane, who spared a wide-eyed glance behind him, meeting the man’s vicious glare as the bartender pulled him faster. The kitchen knife shone in his bloody hand. They skidded to a halt at the end of the corridor, the girl fumbling with her keys, hands shaking as she tried to get the right one into the lock, the metal scraping. Shane stayed over her, a hand pressed to the wall, a human shield as Goldsworth began running. 

“Go!” Shane pulled the door open as she pushed the handle down, his fingers slipping in the gap. “Go! Come on!”

They fled out into the yard, Shane slamming the door shut, the knife sliding through the gap, stopping it from closing. The door handle slipped from his wet grip, bouncing back open as it hit the knife. Goldsworth came out, stumbling to his knees as Shane fell backwards, the ground still damp with the rain that was still falling. Shane’s fingers clawed the dirt as he pushed himself upright, grabbing hold of the bartender, hurrying her across the yard to the wooden fence. She jumped up, grabbed the top, he boosted her over, hearing the gravel crunching as Goldsworth finally righted himself. His heart was in his throat, his fingernails digging into the wood as he hauled himself halfway over, his arms trembling with the strain. He slipped a leg over, and his eyes met Goldsworth’s just as he fell to the ally on the other side. He landed right in a puddle, the cold water splashing his face. He felt hands on him, the bartender’s terrified eyes glued to his as she helped him stand up. The fence shook as Goldsworth came after them, driving the knife into the wood, a makeshift grip. Shane allowed himself to be lead down the ally, running, her hand still in his. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Goldsworth’s silhouette racing after them, the water splashing up as his feet hit the gravel. 

“My car!” Shane was leading now, pulling her after him, the two of them almost falling against the bonnet. He clawed his keys from his pocket. “Get in! Get in the car!”

He fell into the driver’s seat, the passenger door slamming as she did the same. He fumbled to get the key into the ignition, the car shaking as something hit it hard. Goldsworth’s bloodied face was just visible through the rain on the windshield, and the two of them screamed as his hand landed on the glass, red mixing with the water. Shane slammed the accelerator, the car swerving out onto the empty road, his hands slipping on the steering wheel as he spun it back around. The knife crunched through the glass as Goldsworth flung it at the driver’s door with all his might. Shane flinched, the car’s wheels sliding on the tarmac as they spun. It finally jumped forwards, Goldsworth’s figure standing in the middle of the road, getting smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror. Shane could barely keep still, panting heavily, shaking from the fear, the cold, the stress. He could hear the bartender shivering, muttering to herself in Vietnamese. He swallowed, tasting the blood in the rainwater.

“What’s your name?”

She looked at him, her dark hair stuck to her face with the wet. “Katt.”

“Katt.” He swallowed again, sparing a glance in the rear view mirror, just in case. “My name’s Shane.”

“I know.” She rubbed a hand down her face, the rain spraying as she shook it out. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He nodded, the water dripping from his hair, his shirt stuck to him, stained with blood, with dirt. “It’s okay.”

A silence, but for their ragged breaths. She spoke after a few minutes.

“Where’s your friend? The little one. Ryan?”

Shane clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering. “I don’t know. But that’s his ex.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “ _That’s_ his ex? The one you talked about?”

“Yeah.” Shane sniffed, relaxing a bit as he saw the buildings beginning to get bigger, brighter, recognizable signs outside. “He’s a bit of an asshole.”

Another silence but for the hum of the engine. Shane glanced at her, seeing how shaken she was, her eyes fluttering, as if re-watching the scene in her head. He swallowed, tasting bitter blood in his mouth.

"Are you hungry?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"You like Chipotle?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He nodded to himself, taking the appropriate turn. "We'll get Chipotle. Then I'm dropping you to your house."

She nodded, distractedly touching the side of her mouth, which was swelling slightly. "Where will you go?"

Shane stared straight ahead, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, despite the sting in his hands. "Oh, I know where I'm going to go."

* * *

Ryan sat upright on the bench, letting go of the weight, pulling one earphone out. He hadn't heard the knocking, but holy shit, he could feel it. Whoever it was was positively hammering on the door, non-stop, rattling the hinges. He got to his feet, hurrying to the kitchen, swiping the gun from the cupboard. He put it back the second he heard the voice joining in with the banging.

"Ryan! Open the door!"

He stood for a moment in silence, staring at the door. Then he wiped a hand down his sweaty face, using the end of his black t-shirt to try and wipe it off more efficiently as he headed for the door. And when he opened it, he couldn't speak.

"Shane, what the fuck happened to you?"

The taller man shoved past him, into the apartment, his heavy breaths audible. "Close the door. Close the damn door."

Ryan reluctantly did so, looking him up and down, realizing that he in fact wasn't the most disheveled out of the two of them. The other man was roughed up almost beyond recognition, his shirt soaked through, muddy, bloodstained. His face was similar, the blood stuck to his stubble, smeared from his nose, the corner of his mouth. Even his hands and forearms were reddened, scratched up. Ryan wiped his hands off each other as he stared at him, still a bit out of breath from his own workout. But at least his had been voluntary.

"I'll give you one guess as to who did this to me," he said, gesturing down at himself. "One fucking guess."

Ryan swallowed. "Ricky."

"Oh, got it in one." Shane wiped a hand over his mouth before putting it back on his hip. "Goldsworth was down in that Vietnamese restaurant, did you know that?"

Ryan blinked at this. "No. I didn't."

"He was down there having a goddamn ball until I turned up." Shane took a step forwards, almost threatening. "He was fucking _interrogating_ that bartender. The seventeen year old. Did you know about that?"

Ryan shook his head, eyes still wide. "No. No, I didn't know that."

"How. How would you not know that."

Ryan seemed very unsettled indeed, blinking rapidly as he stared at the floor. "I- Okay, did you hear anything? What was he saying?"

"He was demanding that she tell him where that chef went." Shane took another step forwards, not taking his eyes from the shorter man's face. "He was hitting her. He was fucking hitting her, Ryan. That's not fucking right. I don't care what his job is, he doesn't have any right to lay a finger on _anyone_."

Ryan searched the taller man's eyes, nodding. "Where is he? Where is he now?"

"I don't know! I left him at the restaurant after he put a knife through my fucking car door!"

Ryan hurried along the few windows in the room, yanking the curtains closed. "Right. Right, you should stay here tonight."

"I'm not staying _anywhere_ with you."

Ryan paused at this, still holding the curtains. Then he turned, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "What?"

"If that is the type of person you associate with, I don't want anything to do with you." Shane pointed at him, backing towards the door. "I'm done. I'm done with this, I'm done with you and all your bullshit. I mean it."

"Shane, wait. Wait!" Ryan bolted for the door as Shane opened it, slamming it closed, seeing the anger flash through the taller man's eyes. "You have to stay here. For your own good."

"I don't have to do shit." Shane looked him up and down, taking in the strong physique visible in the tight black t-shirt, the unnecessary athleticism for a man who worked in an office job. He shook his head. "What are you, huh? Are you an assassin or some shit too?"

Ryan did a double-take. "What?!"

"Look at you." Shane grabbed his arm, giving it a hard squeeze, feeling the firm muscle. The guy's skin was damp with sweat; it glistened on his arms, his neck, his face. "Why are you so fit? Why can you fight? What's it all for?"

Ryan yanked his arm away, staying back against the door. "You're being ridiculous. Calm down."

"Did you have something to do with Morgan's disappearance."

Ryan raised his eyebrows, as if the accusation was so outlandish that he couldn't help but laugh. "Excuse me?"

“Did you do it?”

"Did I do what?!”

“Did you have something to do with Morgan’s disappearance? Or his probable death?” Shane held his gaze firmly. “Is it some inside job? C'mon. Tell me.”

“You think this is an inside job?” Ryan stared at him in bewildered silence. Then he laughed, long and loud. “Oh my  _God_ , Shane. Are you serious?”

“Don’t try and flash that smile and wheedle your way out of this. You’re acting like you have some secret life you can't tell anyone about.”

"And what? You think I killed my coworker?" Ryan searched his eyes, still bewildered. "You think I'm a murderer?"

"I don't know what you are!" Shane spread his arms, a bit forcefully for such a flippant gesture. "You won't tell me!"

“If I was somehow a- a what? A  _murderer_?! I would be the worst murderer ever!”

“How? You’re acting pretty shady to me!”

“If I was a fucking murderer trying to hide my  _own murder,_  why would I be letting an FBI agent into my home? Why would I let an FBI agent into my life at all?” Ryan laughed again, stunned. "Why would I want to get involved with you in any way? I'd be doing the exact opposite!"

"For all I know, you're just fucking with me! Tricking me!"

"I'm not tricking you," said Ryan firmly, straightening up off the door.

"Tell me what you are."

"I'll tell you what I'm not," said Ryan quietly, not moving as the taller man took a step towards him. "And that's a killer. Because if I was a killer, I wouldn't have bothered saving your life on multiple occasions."

"Reverse psychology."

"I'm not a murderer, Shane," he said heatedly, closing the small space between them, a glare on his face. "I'm not tricking you."

Shane stood with his head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering up and down the shorter man’s face. “Then prove it.”

Ryan held his gaze, arms still folded across his chest. His eyes dropped to the taller man’s mouth, his hands moving to rest on his shoulders, feeling them relax under his touch. He pulled him down. He didn’t need to pull too much. Ryan kissed him, a slow, soft one. Their mouths opened in unison, tongues meeting, Shane’s hands resting on the shorter man’s waist, turning him away from the door. Shane took a step forwards, pushing Ryan back, one arm wrapping right around him, fingers digging into his ribs. His other hand held Ryan’s wrist, still pushing him backwards, their mouths still working against each other. Ryan could feel the determination, the fierceness in the kiss, his head tilting back as Shane pushed forwards. Their mouths parted, the two of them letting out harsh moans as they met again, harder than before, Shane ducking forwards, tilting the shorter man’s head right back, feeling the arms wrap around his shoulders tight, feeling the moan right into his mouth.

“Ah!” Shane broke away, eyes squeezed shut as he cupped his own face. “My jaw. Shit.”

“Then move your damn head, Shane.” Ryan inhaled deeply as the taller man kissed him again. He allowed himself to be picked up, hooking his legs around his waist. “Kiss me like you mean it, for God’s sake.”

He heard the grunt of irritation as Shane went back in, their mouths hot against each other, Ryan’s hands cupping the other man’s face. Ryan felt the table against his back as he was laid down on it, feeling the muffled groan of pain before hearing it, Shane rearing away, clutching one of his forearms.

“What?” Ryan glared at him, openly inconvenienced. “What happened to your arms?”

“I cut them in a pile of broken glass and- and cutlery!”

“Who the hell cuts their arms on cutlery?!”

“I do!” Shane grabbed his shoulders, pulling him forwards, their mouths meeting hard, teeth hitting off each other with the harshness.

“You’re such a fucking-” Ryan kissed him again, pulling him in, a hand running up through his thick, damp hair. “You’re such a fucking mess, I just-”

“Shut up.” Shane pulled his own disheveled shirt open, leaning around the other man, swiping the contents off the table. “Take off your clothes. Right now. I mean it. Take them off.”

Ryan pulled his t-shirt off over his head, throwing it aside, Shane’s hand grabbing his waist, the other holding the back of his head as he leaned in, his mouth landing on Ryan’s neck, teeth closing on his skin. Ryan let out a loud moan, his breathing harsh and heavy, his hands scrambling to pull the other man’s shirt off fully, fingers digging into his arms, quite surprised at the muscle he could feel.

“You are  _infuriating_ ,” said Shane, his voice more of a growl than a mutter. “I just want to get away from you because you drive me so fucking crazy-” Another kiss. “-but I keep coming back-” Yet another, forcing a low moan from the other man’s mouth. “-and I keep telling myself I don’t need you but holy  _shit_  do I want you.”

Ryan’s reply was breathless, his heavy-lidded eyes dark, glittering as they barely left Shane’s mouth, the taller man letting his ruined shirt fall off him. “I want you. I want you n-”

His sentence was ended as Shane’s lips met his again, using his body to push Ryan’s back on the table, feeling the legs hook around his waist, the body firm against his. Ryan tangled a hand in the man’s thick hair, drawing him deeper in, feeling Shane’s hands pushing his legs apart, fitting further in between them, hands moving to undo his belt, grabbing Ryan's hips, pulling him forwards. 

"Oh shit," breathed Ryan, his eyes squeezed shut, feeling the mouth running down his neck, his chest, each kiss as hard and passionate as the one before. "Fuck. _Fuck_ , Shane." He felt the fingers slip in behind the waist of his sweatpants, pulling them down off his hips. He tangled a hand in Shane's hair, head resting back against the table. "I- I fucking- Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck_." He turned his head aside, feeling Shane's free hand running over his stomach, his chest, fingers digging into him. He couldn't speak, he couldn't make a sound, his hand finding a newspaper on the table, balling it up like it was bed sheets, his other hand still gripping Shane's hair where the man's head was between his legs. His back arched off the table, his legs pressing in either side of Shane's chest. "I- I'm gonna-"

The knocking on the door echoed around the apartment, the door shaking in its hinges for the second time that hour. Shane went to stop, feeling the hand hold him in place, Ryan's legs still around his chest. He glanced up, seeing Ryan shaking his head, his chest heaving.

"Don't stop," he managed to get out between panted breaths. "Don't."

Shane ignored the banging on the door, taking the other man in his mouth again. Ryan's hand tightened in his hair almost painfully as the very unwelcome voice came through the door.

"Ryan!" Goldsworth banged on the door again. "Where is he! Where's Madej!"

Shane clamped a hand across Ryan's mouth to stifle the loud moans, Ryan's own hands moving to hold it in place, his eyes squeezed shut, back rising off the table again.

"Ryan, I know you're in there!"

Shane slipped his fingers into the man's mouth, feeling Ryan's hands stay clamped over them, the whimpered moans growing louder, almost louder than the rattling hinges. Ryan's hips bucked, a harsh moan forcing its way out of his mouth as he came hard, his legs tightening around Shane's chest so much it was almost painful. Shane swallowed messily, his hands pressed to the table either side of the other man, propping himself up as he caught his breath. 

"RYAN!"

Ryan finally managed to shout back. "WHAT!"

Shane snatched his shirt off the floor, seeing Ryan pointing down the dark hall which held the bedroom and the bathroom. Shane slipped into the bathroom, keeping the lights off, closing the door over before he sat down on the edge of the bath, shrugging his shirt back on. It was still damp, smelling of dirt. But he had nothing else as he hid in the dark, feeling like just a bit of a coward. But hey, it was either be a coward for a few minutes or face Goldsworth and probably die a horrible, violent death. So he crept to the door, and listened.

"He interrupted something."

"Oh yeah? What did he interrupt?" Ryan sounded very impatient indeed. "What were you even doing there?"

A pause. "I was looking for any leads."

"Oh, were you."

"I don't know why you're acting as if I did something bad."

"Well you look like you've been dragged through a ditch."

"Just tell me where Madej is. Spit it out."

"I don't _know_ where he is." A silence. "I think you should go."

Another silence. "He's in here. I know he is."

Shane swallowed hard, wondering if he should just go out now, face the thunder. He placed a hand on the door handle.

"And why do you think he's in here, huh?" Ryan snorted. "You're just crazy."

"No, you've got that look on your face that you only get when you've been fucked good, and-" 

"As if you'd know what that looks like."

Shane clamped a hand over his mouth to contain his laughter. _Damn, Bergara. Merciless_.

Goldsworth sounded ten times angrier now. "Where the fuck is he."

"You should go. Now."

"Or what?"

Ryan didn't reply for a moment. "I don't want this to get violent, Ricky. Mainly because I'd smoke your ass. So go. Now."

Shane prepared himself to run out at the slightest sound of conflict. He kept his gaze lowered, listening for any sudden movements. The silence lingered for so long he wondered whether they'd left. Then a door opened, and slammed shut, making Shane jump. He poked his head out of the bathroom, seeing Ryan standing alone, his t-shirt back on. The shorter man looked over his shoulder at him, watching him come down the dark hallway into the light of the sitting area.

"Did you do that to him?"

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

Ryan swallowed. "Did you save that girl from Ricky and actually make it out alive?"

A pause. "Yeah. I guess I did."

Ryan crossed the room towards him, already pulling his t-shirt back off, throwing it aside as he drew the taller man down into a heated kiss. Shane let himself be guided backwards, towards the bedroom, feeling Ryan's hands slip under his open shirt, gripping his waist. Their mouths barely parted, a weight behind their movements, a heavy passion. Shane lay back on the bed, the shorter man climbing on top, straddling him, their tongues brushing. He tilted his head aside as he felt Ryan's lips meander down his neck, nice and slow, making his heart flutter.

"Ryan," he breathed, cupping the man's face.

"Mm?"

"Hold off a second." He held the man's hands, looking up into his eyes, glinting amid his darkened features. "I just need to sleep for a while."

"Oh shit. Yeah, of course. Sorry." Ryan got off him, sitting beside him. He rubbed a hand down his face, letting out a quiet sigh. "You want tea or something? You hungry?"

"Fuck, I'd love tea."

"Cool. Stay there." Ryan got to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked the other man over. "I'll get you a clean t-shirt."

"Mm."

"Wait, don't fall asleep." Ryan gave the side of his face a light slap, hearing the alarmed noise the other man made. "You haven't cleaned any of your cuts, you idiot. Let me do that too."

"Sure." Shane propped himself up against the headboard, every limb weighing a hundred pounds. "That's cool."

Well, it turned out living like an action hero wasn't all glitz and glamour and sex. It was blood and sweat and tears and sex. He accepted the cup of tea from Ryan, letting the other man examine his arms, using tweezers to pick out any little shards of glass still hanging on, bandaging them afterwards. Shane only let two tears fall, which he thought was very impressive. Then Ryan cleaned up his face, his mouth, his nose, the smell of disinfectant overwhelming. Shane opened his eyes as he felt the hand rest on his chest, seeing Ryan's face, the lowered gaze, the pensiveness. The man's dark hair fell forwards in strands, for once not pushed back off his face. Shane ran a finger gently down his cheek, stopping at his chin, tilting his head back up to look him in the eye. He didn't speak for a moment.

"You're scared."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah. I'm a bit scared."

"Of what?"

He placed the tweezers aside, the bloodied tissues too, one holding the various shards of glass. "I don't know yet."

Shane moved aside, making room for the other man to crawl under the covers beside him. Ryan watched the other man struggling to keep his eyes open, looking pale, worn out. He scooched closer, Shane moving to rest his head on the shorter man's chest, closing his eyes as he felt the arms settle around him. He could hear his heartbeat, relaxed, steady. 

"I won't let you get hurt again." Ryan rested a hand on the side of the man's face, soft. "And I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," mumbled Shane, his eyes closed. "You couldn't have done anything."

Ryan held him closer, the other man's thick hair soft against his chin. "I don't want to be on a break."

A pause. "Me neither."

Ryan didn't reply for a moment. "Even though this is what it might be like?"

Shane nodded. Then he pushed himself more upright, frowning down at him. "Wait, like, all the time?"

"Not _all_ the time." Ryan shrugged. "Sometimes? Like, sporadic."

"Okay. Yeah, I guess." Shane lay back down again, closing his eyes. "Sporadic's alright."

He fell asleep within seconds. Ryan didn't. Ryan stayed awake for hours, holding the other man close, just listening, staring at the darkness of his room. And every shifting shadow was a threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/gX9B0f_ZBZ8
> 
> I would like to credit my entire soul to this song because if I could have a soundtrack to the Goldsworth v. Shane bit at the beginning this would be it. gimme chills
> 
> https://youtu.be/gX9B0f_ZBZ8?t=226  
> and especially this bit for the chase scene. aaaa
> 
>  
> 
> also also  
> https://youtu.be/3AGhN4GCwKE  
> this is the unofficial theme that i would call 'Ecclesiastes 12 1-8', so if u into instrumentals and can get the vibe give this a listen for ending Mood


	10. For Diamonds and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth is at home for once. A revelation comes about. Shane tries to bribe a two-year-old. A casual drink gets interrupted multiple times.

"They're fine, they- Ah! Ow! Watch it!"

"Stop being a baby."

"The shampoo is getting in them!"

"No, you're just a wimp." Ryan chucked the old bandages out of the shower, lifting Shane's arms towards him, studying them with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, they're good. But you need to let some air at them."

"I know, man." Shane turned back to the hot water, letting it run right into his face. "God, this feels good."

"You're hogging literally all the water, Shane!" Ryan jostled him aside. "Stop being so tall."

"It's the lottery of life, Ryan. And you lost big time."

Ryan rolled his eyes, rubbing the shampoo into his hair. "You know, I feel like we somehow skipped the whole 'sex in the shower' part of a relationship and just went straight to the 'arguing in the shower' bit."

"You started it!"

"I didn't! Shut up."

"Do you have conditioner?"

"No, why would I have conditioner?"

"I need it! My hair is one of my best features, man!"

"Oh I'm so sorry I didn't buy conditioner in the hope that some day you'd be in my shower!"

Shane stuck his tongue out at him, reaching around him for a different bottle. "What's this? Oh, what? You get that 3-in-1 stuff?  _Ryan_."

"Sometimes I don't have time to have a leisurely soak, Shane. Come on."

"I'm disgusted."

"It's for emergencies. Leave me alone."

"I just-"

"You're bullying me." Ryan blinked, the suds having run down into his eyes as he had focused entirely on his side of the bickering. "Ow, shit, look what you've done!"

"How is that my fault!"

"Help me! Give me the towel!"

"Okay, just relax!"

He passed the nearest towel to him, deciding that now was the time to turn off the water. Shane cupped the shorter man's face, tilting it back, all mock-concern.

"Are your pretty eyes okay? Are you permanently blind?" 

"Oh, get stuffed."

They got dressed in relative silence, both still with their own thoughts weighing heavy on their minds. Shane found his trousers hanging over the radiator, nice and clean. He turned to the shorter man.

"Did you wash these?"

"Well, yeah." Ryan pulled his grey jumper on over his head, the sleeves just a bit too long. "Because I don't have any pants that'd fit your long-ass legs."

"I'm all femur, baby." He smiled at him, a soft one. "Thanks."

Ryan smiled back. "It's nothing."

Shane pulled his trousers on, deciding not to mention the fact that he had already snooped in Ryan's wardrobe, and found a black bulletproof vest and a gun holster. Oh, and a belt with a knife hidden in the buckle. He whistled a light tune to himself, the jumper Ryan lent him proving a bit more difficult to get on than his trousers. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from cursing as he tried to raise his left arm, his side complaining with the movement. Ryan gave him a concerned once-over, sitting down beside him. 

"Does it hurt?"

Shane looked down at himself; his left side was covered in bruises, brown and yellow, running from his ribs down to his hip, remnants of Goldsworth. "Yeah. A bit."

"Tell me if this hurts." Ryan stood in front of him, gesturing for the other man to stand up. Then he pressed gently along his ribs, watching Shane's face. "Don't try to hide it. Tell me if it hurts."

"Yup, it hurts." He exhaled sharply. "Like a bitch."

"There's probably a cracked rib or two in there."

"Well, at least I have six."

"That's not how it works, dude." Ryan rested a hand against the taller man's face, thumb brushing his cheek. "Take it easy for a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah. I might." Shane finally managed to get the jumper on, with just a little bit of help. Then he followed the shorter man back to the kitchen, sitting down at the table as the other man started making coffee. "What are you going to do about Goldsworth?"

There was a worrying pause. Then Ryan shrugged, a small gesture. "I can't do anything."

"No, but what's going to be done  _about_  him." Shane gave his jaw a scratch, realizing he should've borrowed the other man's razor too. "He was physically assaulting a seventeen year old girl, Ryan. He chased her - no,  _us_  - with a goddamn kitchen knife."

Ryan let his hands rest either side of the roaster, fingers tapping out a slow beat. "There's nothing." A cough to clear his throat. "There's nothing to be done about him. Nothing's gonna happen."

Shane stared at the back of the other man's head. He was astounded. "What?"

"He's in the CIA, dude. You know how they work."

Shane shook his head, bewildered. "No, wait, backtrack a bit. This guy beat up a seventeen year old girl, proceeded to beat me around the place, chased us with a kitchen knife, and he's just going to stay?"

Ryan turned to look at him, arms folded across his chest as he leaned back on the counter. "His boss doesn't care how he does his job, as long as he gets it done. Ricky's on a very long leash, Shane."

"But it's still a leash."

"Barely. It's a- a piece of yarn."

Shane pressed his lips together in a line, looking just a whole lot pissed off. "How long did you go out with him for."

Ryan stared back for a moment, arms still folded stiffly. Then he turned away. "Too long."

"Has he always been like this?"

"I didn't know what he was like. Not at the start." Ryan stood with his hands on his lower back, sighing heavily. "I- I've done bad things too, Shane. Not stuff like that, but... I've done ethically dubious things."

Shane accepted the coffee that was finally handed to him, but his eyes didn't leave Ryan's face. Not for a second. "On a scale of one to ten?"

"...Seven?"

Shane took a mouthful of coffee, swallowing it. Ryan didn't touch his. "Have you ever killed someone?"

He almost hoped Ryan had jumped, or blinked, or done something along the lines of what he'd been doing for the past few months. Some innocent way of hiding it, a flash of a smile, a bright laugh. He didn't do anything. He just sniffed, keeping his gaze lowered as he leaned back against the counter.

"...Yeah. I've- I've killed people."

 _People. Multiple. And on a scale of one to ten, killing someone is a seven._  Shane took a deep breath, sitting back. "Why?"

"In self-defense." Ryan said this firmly. "Only if they were trying to kill me. I've never initiated it. Not like Goldsworth."

Shane nodded slowly. "So you're not an assassin, or a hitman."

"No." 

"But then again, neither is Goldsworth."

"Look, Shane. Stop trying to figure out what I am!"

Shane threw his hands up. "I can't help it! Are you a goodie or a baddie?"

"Good." Ryan nodded, as if reassuring himself as well as Shane. "I'm good."

Shane sipped his coffee, a long, long sip. "So out of curiosity, you  _did_  choke me out that night?"

Ryan pulled a face. "I- Well, yeah. But that's the worst thing I've done in a while,  _and_  it was for your own safety."

Shane shrugged, sitting back in his seat, legs crossed in a figure four. "Eh, it was funny because you had to stand on a chair."

"Shut up, Shane."

* * *

The house was shrouded in darkness, and not just because of the closed curtains. The mood was somber, solemn, Ruth sitting at her kitchen table with all the vigor of a zombie. Ryan had been in with her for the past forty-five minutes. Shane lingered in the hallway, hands on his hips as he wandered back and forth. He'd wanted to go in, to get involved, but the subtle shake of the head Ryan gave him made him stop. Something had happened, something very bad. So really, he should just go in, demand to be involved. But he didn't want to start clashing with Ryan. Not now. He rubbed a weary hand down his face, wondering since when the hell he'd given a shit.

A tug on his finger made him glance behind him. "Oh, hello. Emily?"

She nodded surely. "Hello. Can I ask you something?

Shane crouched down in front her, smiling. "Yeah?"

"Are they real?"

"Are what re- Oh." His face went flat as she poked his eyebrow. "Yeah. They're real."

"Ryan says they're crazy."

"I'm sure Ryan says a lot of things about me." He sniffed. "And if it comes up again, tell him I think it looks like someone just coughed eyebrows onto his face. So there."

She suddenly pinched his nose. "Honk!"

"Alright, no need to honk. Jesus." He straightened back up, giving his nose a rub. "You guys make me feel very insecure."

"Ryan has a fat face."

Shane opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again. "Yeah, he does, actually. He's 80% cheeks. Then 10% cheekbone and 10% jawline that I would willingly let slit my throa-" He pressed his lips together, eyes widening in alarm. "Uh, um, nevermind. Forget what I just said."

The other girl toddled into the hall, the dark-haired one, taking his hand and determinedly leading him to the playroom. Oddly, the curtains were closed in here too. He opened them with a frown, seeing the gloomy street outside. A motorbike sat across the road, black and sleek. He let his hands slide off the curtains, squinting at the vehicle. That hadn't been there beforehand. The sound of airplane noises made him turn back around, seeing the little girl distracting herself with the objects around her. She pulled open a toy cash register, taking out a single dollar bill, handing it towards him. She was bored. Just like him.

Shane smiled at her sitting among the scattered toys. "Betsy, isn't it?"

She nodded, her dark hair bouncing in its little bob. "Yeah."

"Yeah." He accepted the fake money, squinting at it. "Hm. This is pretty good for Monopoly money."

"Not allowed play that," she replied simply, as he sat down across from her with his long legs stretched out like a giant toddler. "Mommy says it's bad."

Shane looked at her over the convincingly fake dollar, an eyebrow arched. "Your mom thinks Monopoly is bad?"

"A bad fluence."

He tilted his head at this. "A bad influence?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yeah. In-fluence."

Shane looked back down at the dollar, turning it over in his hand. "If you don't have Monopoly, where did you get this?"

"Papa's."

He glanced up. "Papa's what?"

"Papa's purse."

Shane looked back down at the dollar bill. It was almost flawless. A near-perfect replica, straight from Chuck's wallet. Counterfeit quality. "You have any more of these?"

"No." She stuck out a little hand, taking it from him. "I'm not allowed to have it. Mommy says it's bad. She used to shout at papa, she used to say  _that money is bad! That money won't work! You should burn that money!_  But papa never did."

Shane was staring at her, watching her go straight back to playing with her toy helicopter, whizzing it over the felt map of the desert, the little army trucks below. "What else did your mom and dad talk about?"

She shrugged, letting the helicopter hover over the cars. "Money. House. Who washes up."

He nodded distractedly. "Yeah, yeah, but-"

"Ryan talks about the same things," she continued innocently, putting a fist right through the gathered cars, scattering them wildly. "The money. And the is crow."

 _The is crow_. Shane picked up one of the cars, spinning one of its wheels. "Escrow?"

"Is crow. Yeah." She grew bored of the helicopter, tossing it aside. "And the banjo. He says that the banjo wants the crow."

Shane stared at her in silence, eyes wide. She went back to her toys, picking up the plastic giraffe, placing it in the middle of the desert. "Does the banjo have another name?"

She paused for a moment, thoughtful. Then she nodded. "Cintock."

 _McClintock. Banjo McClintock. Provides drug mules like he grows them in a field_. He watched her dance the giraffe around in a circle, her smile bright, innocent. He swallowed. "Did your mom and dad ever talk about what they might do in the future?"

"Future?"

"Like, next week, next month, next year?"

She nodded. "They said they had to leave. Go to Yoorope. But mommy said we can't do that anymore."

Shane pushed the toys aside, keeping his voice low. "Why not?"

"She said papa won't come home now." She shrugged. "But I know he will. Papa always comes home."

Shane glanced back at the door to the kitchen, from which he could still hear heavy sobs. "Did your mommy say why your papa might not come home?"

"No. But she said it was real this time." Betsy shrugged again, rocking back and forth as she twisted the giraffe's neck. "She said she did it to help us."

"To help you?"

"To save us."

"To save you?"

She nodded, looking up at him with her big eyes. "Save us."

Shane swallowed hard, his throat tight. "Where was your mom?"

"Away." She tossed the giraffe aside, to join the rest. "But Franny minded us."

"Franny?" He looked at her pleadingly, begging her to reply, to say anything back. "Who's Franny?"

"The nice woman." She got to her feet, tottering away. "She took us to horsey."

"Hey, hey, kid. Betsy. Come back here for a second." Shane crawled after her, frowning as she crawled under the couch, going right against the wall. He ducked down, his hair falling forwards, his eyes just visible from where she was. "What are you doing? Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "This is where I go."

"Where you go when?"

"When I'm sad. When mommy and papa fight."

Shane stayed where he was, despite the fact his neck was beginning to ache already. "Did they fight a lot?"

"Yes." She sniffled. "About the is crow. And the banjo. And the stone animals."

"The what animals? Betsy, c'mon, come here for a second. I'll give you a, uh, I'll give you five dollars. The real deal, too."

She shook her head again, her sniffles growing incessant. "I want papa back. Mommy said he's not coming back. Bring me back papa."

Shane pressed his lips together in a line, hands pressed to the floor as he looked at her. "I can't. I don't know your papa."

"Ryan knows my papa. Ryan will get him. Ryan always finishes his mission."

Shane frowned at this. "Finishes his mission? Where did you hear that phrase, huh?"

"Papa."

This child. This child was a gold mine. "I'll give you ice cream. I'll give you  _so_  much ice cream, you'll be swimming in it. Just answer a few questions for me. Off the books."

She shook her head. "Not allowed. Questions are bad."

"You ever heard of a Ricky? A Ricky Goldsworth?"

A pause. Then a nod. "Bad man."

"Yeah! Yeah, bad man." Shane lay flat on the ground, giving her an encouraging smile. "You like me, right?"

"Yes." She giggled. "Mister Beanpole."

"So why don't you-" He blinked. "Wait, excuse me?"

"Ryan calls you beanpole."

Shane didn't respond for a moment. "Hm. Does he." He sniffed. "Well it's  _Detective_ Beanpole, actually."

"Shane!"

He pushed himself to his knees, head snapping around to look at Ryan's furious face in the doorway. Furious, and tear-stained. He crossed the room, grabbing Shane's arm, hauling him to his feet. Shane didn't even fight back, his eyes glued to the other man's watery eyes. He let Ryan drag him away, glancing back to see Betsy's eyes shining under the couch, peering at him, behind them a mind that was just full to the brim with secrets she most definitely shouldn't know. Life-threatening stuff.

"Ryan. Ryan!" He finally pulled his arm away as they headed down the driveway, glaring at the shorter man. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Shut up!" Ryan shouted the words, turning away, his hands linked behind his head as he let out a frustrated yell. "Fuck! Fuck this!"

"Calm down, man!"

Ryan shoved him, hard. But before Shane could even process what it was for, Ryan drew him back in, hugging him harder, face buried in his chest as he finally let himself just cry. Shane rested his chin on his head, arms around him, entirely bewildered. He caught a glimpse of Ruth's face in the window, still so pale, so thin, lifeless. She drew the curtains, shutting out the light. Shane stayed where he was, letting the shorter man wear himself out, feeling the front of his jumper growing damp. Then Ryan finally straightened up, wiping a hand down his face, his lashes still shiny with tears. Shane cupped his face, searching his eyes.

"What happened, Ryan? What did she say?"

Ryan shook his head, swallowing, his hands resting over Shane's. "I have to tell you something."

Shane nodded. "Sure. Anything."

"No. In the car."

"Okay."

Five seconds later, and they were in the car. Ryan was still sniffing, wiping his eyes with his shaking hands. Shane waited patiently, watching him. He placed a gentle hand on the man's leg, feeling Ryan's hand take hold of it, holding it painfully tight. Shane stayed quiet.

"I- Chuck is dead."

Shane blinked. "What?"

"Chuck is dead. They found his body literally ten minutes ago, in Arizona. Tucson. Forty miles outside the town. In the middle of fucking nowhere." He swallowed, taking a shaky breath. "He was shot. In the back of the head."

A silence. "He was murdered."

A hesitant reply. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

"You guess? He was shot in the back of the head!"

"The details aren't in yet. There might be something else going on." Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. "But that's not what I need to tell you. Well it is, but there's something else. That I owe you. That I  _really_  owe you by now."

Shane felt his heart skip, nodding in silence. "Okay. What is it?"

Ryan closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. He turned in his seat, taking Shane's hand in both of his, searching the taller man's eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Shane let his gaze flicker up and down the other man's face before nodding. He was oddly breathless. "Yes. I trust you."

"You need to promise not to tell anyone this. Anyone." He swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his eyes painful to see. "I'm trusting you here, Shane. With a lot. The type of stuff that if you tell  _anyone_  I'll have to kill you. For real."

Shane paused. Then he nodded. "Okay. Okay, shit. Tell me."

Ryan nodded, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Then he reached into the glove compartment, right into the back, taking out a small black leather wallet. No, not a wallet. Shane recognized what it was. He had one too. Ryan hesitated before passing it over, too busy looking at what he'd just passed over to see Shane's wide-eyed glance at him. Then Shane opened it up, looking at the badge, the ID. But where Shane's said FBI, this one just said  _Restricted_. Shane looked at the badge, holding it to the light, reading the few words.  _U.S. Secret Service - Special Agent_. Shane lowered it after a few minutes, his wide eyes remaining fixed on nothing. Then he turned to look at Ryan, who looked like he was about to faint. With his watery eyes and his runny nose that he was struggling to contain, he didn't exactly scream Secret Service material. Until everything else was considered, everything Shane had seen, and heard, and recently felt. Shane looked back at the ID, tilting it this way and that. It was legit. It was all legit. 

"...You're in the Secret Service."

Ryan closed his mouth, nodding. "Yes."

"But- But you work in the Treasury?"

"The Treasury has special agents."

Shane shook his head, his mind still numbed by the blow. "The Treasury Department has special agents from the goddamn Secret Service?!"

"Shh! Shut up!" Ryan swiped the badge back, shoving it deep into his pocket. "It's for counterfeiting, and money laundering, and financial terrorism. And people involved in it. Bad, bad people, Shane. I- I'm a Secret Service agent." It felt weird to say that. He rarely spoke it out loud. "You can't tell anyone. Anyone. Not even Sara."

"But why do you have to hide it? The Secret Service isn't  _entirely_  secret, right?"

"Right. But when Chuck disappeared, a kind of shut-down happened. To keep the rest of us under the radar, so we could work on getting him back." Ryan swallowed hard, continuing on after a few seconds. "All our identities were wiped, in a way. Well, we were given normal Treasury job titles, and integrated into the normal offices. Some of us blended in better than... others."

"...Hold on. Steven and Andrew?"

Ryan didn't reply, averting his gaze. "Well... Yeah."

"Okay, slow down." Shane shook his head, trying to throw his thoughts back on track. "How many of the Secret Service work in our offices?"

Ryan tilted his head aside, eyes narrowed. "Well, like, think about it."

Shane thought about it, really thought about it. And damn, he realized that it was stupidly easy to pick out the agents from the Treasury workers. Jazzmyne spent all her time reading fucking  _Vogue_ , for God's sake. Kelsey sat in front of her computer playing video games all day, legs kicked up on the desk. Sara was sitting at a desk amid literal secret agents, and she didn't even know. He had just thought they were all lazy. Really, they were just bored out of their minds. Shane slumped back in his seat, hands over his face. Ryan bit his lip worriedly.

"What? What's wrong?" Ryan's hands fidgeted on his lap. "Like, I get if you want to end this, because I-"

"I acted like such a tool at the beginning," groaned Shane, still with his hands over his face. "I used to pull my gun on you constantly. Like, unloaded, but still. And you just let me make a fool out of myself."

"Well the only way I could stay sane was because I knew that I could absolutely crush you at a moment's notice."

"God, I was like, jabbing you all the time. I was basically bullying a Secret Service agent and the entire time you could've kicked my ass into the middle of next year."

"Yes. You look stupid now."

"Shut up." Shane finally dropped his hands from his face, taking hold of the steering wheel instead. "This doesn't change anything. Between us. Everything's still the same, right?"

Ryan turned his head at the surprisingly apprehensive tone. "Yeah, dude. Of course. You think I'd leave?"

"Well I don't know, I-"

"I thought that  _you'd_  want to leave." 

"No way! Nuh-uh."

Ryan smiled, still a bit watery. "That's good. That's a relief."

Shane started the engine, nodding to himself. "Huh. My boyfriend's a secret service agent. Now  _that's_  hot."

Ryan looked at him, a small smile on his face. "You think I'm your boyfriend?"

"Well yeah. Wait, do you think you're not?"

"No, I do! I just thought you'd be more hesitant now." Ryan grinned, sitting back in his chair, feeling himself basically melt with the relief at how Shane had handled the bombshell. "Also, what the hell were you doing bribing a two-year-old child?"

Shane kept his head held high. "My job is full of ethically dubious decisions too, Ryan. Risky situations. Gotta think on my feet."

"Oh shut up." He looked at him again, an eyebrow raised. "What were you trying to get her to tell you?"

Shane shrugged. "Oh, just the various nicknames you have for me. Apparently."

"You don't need to ask her to tell you. I'll list them off for you right now, if you want." Ryan cleared his throat. "First is beanpole, which is self-explanatory. Then-"

"I don't want." Shane threw him a moody glower. "I don't want that."

* * *

They went back to Ryan's apartment, and really, Shane couldn't remember the last time he didn't mind working on a Saturday. He got the call from Tinsley, informing him of Charles' untimely death. There'd be a meeting tomorrow morning about it. Ryan, on the other hand, had a meeting right there and then about it. And as Shane waited on the couch for the other man to get ready, he pondered the past few months. And he suddenly realized that every single time Ryan flashed his sunshine smile or threw him that puppy-dog naive look, it was a farce. It was whenever Shane had wandered a bit too close to finding out something he shouldn't have.

"How long did you know?"

Ryan finished packing his bag, looking at him. "Huh?"

"How long did you know that I was attracted to you?" Shane said it dryly, his chin resting on his hand.

The other man straightened up, blowing air out through his mouth. "Well, uh, since the beginning. I guess. Like, I knew you were  _physically_  attracted to me since the beginning. Yeah."

"Hm. How did you know?"

Ryan gestured vaguely at him. "Your body language, dude. Get that shit under control."

Shane laughed. "Excuse me?"

"You made it so obvious, Shane. Come on."

"Well  _I_  wasn't even aware of my apparent crush on you. You knew before I did."

Ryan grinned. "Wow. Were you that ashamed that you had to bury it deep in your subconscious?"

"Right down in Shametown." 

"Shut up." Ryan lowered his gaze, looking a bit unsettled. "You're not mad, are you? That I was lying?"

Shane looked at him for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No, man. You were just doing your job."

"And  _actually_." Ryan sat down beside him, bouncing slightly on the couch. "How did you figure out about Tucson and stuff? Where did you get that from?"

Shane smiled slyly. "A magician never reveals his secrets." A pause. "I saw what you were looking up in the reflection of your glasses."

"Well shit, Shane. That's actually pretty smart."

"Don't treat me like  _too_  much of an idiot."

"I don't think you're an idiot," said Ryan, moving to sit across him, hands resting on his chest. "You're smart, Shane. Really. I was a bit surprised."

"Oh yeah?" Shane let his hands trail up the man's legs, thumbs brushing the inside of his thighs. "Did I look like a total dunce when you first saw me, hm?"

Ryan shrugged. "Your profile gave off an entirely different vibe than you do in real life, I'll admit."

"My profile?" Shane blinked, taken aback. "I have one of those?"

"Yeah. The pictures are hilarious."

"Oh whatever." Shane lowered his gaze, letting his hands slow to a halt on the other man's hips. "So do you just... live like the protagonist of an action movie?"

Ryan felt his heart clench when he saw beyond the smile on the other man's face, to the worry in his eyes. "Only recently. It's not like this all the time."

Shane looked up at him, searching his face before nodding. "Okay. Just... don't get hurt?"

Ryan looked at him, swallowing. He wasn't used to this, to someone openly worrying about his well-being. To his boss, to his coworkers, it was just part of the job. To Ricky, it had been nothing to worry about at all. He had sometimes gone for weeks without checking in to see if Ryan was okay. Ryan swallowed again, feeling his eyes grow watery. Then he pulled Shane into a soft kiss, hands slipping up his neck to cup his face. Shane guided him closer, hands moving to rest on his back, holding him close. And they didn't stop. Ryan kissed him until his lips burned, until he was sure that this was definitely all real, that Shane was actually there in front of him. All his. He eventually broke off, feeling the other man lean forwards, trying to keep their lips together.

"I have to go, Shane," he said quietly, brushing his thumbs over the other man's cheeks, feeling the beginnings of a beard scratch his hands. "I'll let you know when I leave the office. If it makes you feel better."

Shane nodded, burying his face in Ryan's shoulder, breathing him in. "Cool. Don't forget."

Ryan got off him, despite the fact he wanted to do the exact opposite. "...And I have to go out a lot. During the night."

"Oh. Oh yeah. Of course." Shane cleared his throat, twiddling his thumbs. "...Uh, can I come with you to this?"

Ryan shook his head, fondly. "Sorry, Shane. But absolutely no fucking way."

"Like, I don't mean to channel the spirit of an old-timey housewife waving her husband off to war, but I'm gonna be super worried." Shane sat on the couch, wringing his hands. "Hella, uh, worried. Yeah."

"You're gonna sit at the window, face against the glass?" Ryan mimed the scene, shaking his head wistfully. "When will my husband return from the war?"

"Shut up, man." Shane gave him a light slap on the leg. "I'm serious. I'm gonna be  _concerned_."

"I'm not disappearing into the streets to fight crime, dude." Ryan laughed, sitting on the arm of the couch. "A lot of Secret Service stuff is surprisingly administrative. Meetings and such. In the Treasury."

Shane nodded, lips pressed together. "Yeah. Okay." A pause. "I definitely can't tag along? I'll be really quiet. I'll just like, sit in the corner."

"No, dude." Ryan picked his keys up off the table, nodding towards the door. "You gonna head home or what?"

Shane pressed his lips together in a firm line, reluctantly getting to his feet. "Nah. I'll have to occupy myself with something or else I'll go loopy."

* * *

She was there, working again, despite the few bruises still on her face. She smiled when she saw him, pausing in wiping the wine glass. Damn, how was she back working again? Then again, so was he. Sometimes the best thing to do after a shock is to just return to normality as quickly as possible, he supposed.

"Shane!"

"Hello." He sat down at the bar, glancing around the entirely empty restaurant. "Don't get much business in here, huh?"

Katt shrugged, placing the wine glass back with the rest, all immaculate. "No, barely anyone. But I get paid way above minimum, so I don't care." She went on before he could question how this was even possible. "Now, what drinks do you want? All on me. You literally saved my life, dude."

"Alright." He rubbed his hands together. "What's the most difficult cocktail I can think of..."

"Asshole."

He laughed. "Fine. I'll just have a, uh, an Old Fashioned." Shane glanced around the restaurant again, at the murkiness. It was all spotless again; the smashed glass was cleared off the dark red carpet, the table was righted, the tablecloth didn't carry his own bloodstains. "What did he even want from you?"

"I have no idea. He just kept asking about the chef that sometimes works here." She mixed up the drink, chatting away to him over her shoulder. "He's here so rarely I don't even know his name. I just call him The Chef."

"The Chef. Alright." Shane rubbed the back of his neck, studying the bar distractedly. "Hey, you know, I could probably get you a little try-out where I work. If you still want to be in the FBI, that is."

She glanced up at this, wide-eyed. "For real?"

"Mm. You thought on your feet last night. I was impressed." He accepted the drink with a nod. "You thought quicker than I did."

" _You_  almost had your face bashed in. I just got slapped once or twice." She leaned on the bar, arms folded. "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't turned up."

He sipped the drink, gaze lowered. The ice clinked in the glass. "Yeah. Me neither."

She waited for a moment, but he could tell she had a mountain of questions to throw at him. So he just took a mouthful of his drink, and sat back.

"Go on. Ask me whatever you want."

"Who  _was_  he?" she immediately blurted out. "I mean, I know he's your guy's ex-boyfriend, but what the hell  _is_  he? If you get what I mean."

"CIA." Shane spoke into his glass. "Bunch of jackasses."

"And he kept asking about the statue outside," she said with a puzzled frown. "Demanding that I 'show him the tapes'. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about."

"Show him what tapes?"

"Exactly! I don't know." She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "But when my boss-"

"Who is your boss, actually?" Shane raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I've only ever seen you working here. There aren't any waiters or anything."

"Oh, I don't know who he is. I've never met him." She paused. "Or them, actually. They always refer to themselves as 'they'. They're a group of people. I have multiple bosses."

Shane was staring at her, a slight frown on his face. "You've never met them? That's a bit weird."

"I didn't really care. I mean, it pays really good, so."

 _Yeah. How?_  "Have you ever seen any-"

The tingle of a bell made them pause, Katt seemingly entirely surprised that someone had even entered the bar. The man crossed the room towards them, slowly, leisurely, and really, all he was missing were spurs. His cowboy hat, his waistcoat, his boots, his thick handlebar mustache were all straight from the wild wild west. He tipped his hat at Katt before taking the seat directly beside Shane. Shane rubbed a hand over his mouth, feeling a bit disgruntled about his own mustache, which was only just starting to grow. It seemed like everyone was out to make him feel insecure today. 

"I'll just have a beer," drawled the newcomer in a rumbling voice, folding his arms on the table. "Whichever you got."

Shane gave him a sidelong look as he took a mouthful of his own drink, seeing that the man was staring right at him. He looked Shane up and down. Shane spared a hesitant smile.

"I, uh, I like the whole thing you have going," he finally said, putting his drink down. "The whole cowboy thing. Why not, right?"

"Mm." The man took the cap off the bottle with his teeth, making Shane pull a face, grimacing. "Some days just gotta get out, you know?"

Shane spared a quick glance at Katt, who also seemed a bit unsettled as she went straight back to wiping whatever nearest flat surface. "Uh, yeah. Sure, man."

"Man." He sniffed, sitting closer to the bar, gaze pensive. "You ain't from here either."

"Well... No. I'm from Chicago."

"Chicaaaago." The man let the word drag out, swilling it around his mouth. "You're not skipping town though, are ya."

Shane readjusted his seating, clearing his throat. "Nope. Just working here."

"Work's busy, huh."

Shane paused, wondering why the sentence had sounded more like a statement than a question. "Always is."

"Particularly now." The man didn't look away as Shane glanced at him, watching him from under his bushy grey brows. "You're a big man, aren't ya."

"Yup. Ha."

"But yer soft." A hard poke in the arm, making Shane tilt his head aside, shoulders tensing. "Soft like dough. I know a few guys who could mush you up till yer nothin."

"Oh. Cool."

A silence. "Not talkative today."

Shane turned his head at this, looking him up and down. "Have we met or something?"

"Naw." The man got back to his feet, giving Shane a hard slap on the shoulder, and a squeeze with it. "Not yet."

Shane sat in baffled silence, a frown fixed on his face. He looked over his shoulder, watching the stranger leave with his beer, ambling out the door, letting it swing shut after him. He blinked rapidly, hands resting on the edge of the bar, drink forgotten. He jumped when he heard the laugh.

"The fuck was that?" Katt laughed again, eyebrows raised. "You know him?"

"I- No. No, I don't think so." Shane glanced over his shoulder again, watching the door. _No, I don't know him. Not yet_.

The sound of clattering dishes from the kitchen made Shane leap out of his seat, beginning to wish he'd brought his gun with him. He watched with wide eyes as a woman in full biker gear stumbled through the kitchen doors, her angry eyes visible through the open visor of her helmet as she kick a pot off her foot in clear irritation. Then she straightened up, pulling the helmet off, and Shane's heart almost stopped. He automatically moved backwards, staggering against the stools, eyes wide in alarm. 

"Hey, Fran." Katt immediately began making up a coffee, frothing the milk. "Another late one?"

"Ugh, tell me about it." The woman placed her helmet down on the bar with finality, seemingly oblivious to Shane standing stock still two feet away. "I broke two red lights getting here. That's how desperate I am for this caffeine. Mmmmm. Make it a large, too. I'm gonna be out of town for an undetermined amount of time. Along with a few others, I expect."

She finally looked at Shane as she shrugged her leather coat off. He inclined his head, wondering was he completely and utterly on the wrong page here. Then she smiled, and he knew instantly that it was her. She'd given him and Ryan the same smile through the train door.

"Hey, man." She bowed, sweeping a hand dramatically. "Allow me to make your acquaintance."

"No. No, I'd rather not." He finished his drink in one gulp, placing it down with an _aaah_ before waving at Katt. "I already avoided dying here once, so I'm not gonna do it again. See ya!"

"Sit down, Madej. If I wanted to do what I was going to do, I'd go to your apartment." She herself sat down, kicking her booted feet up on the stool beside her. "I'm not even after you. So calm your tits."

Shane pointed at her. "You work for Horsley, right? Wet work?"

"No," she replied pointedly, nodding her head towards the occupied Katt. "I'm a courier. So shut your face."

He gave his beard a scratch, thinking the situation over. "Okay. Fran?"

"Francesca Norris." She extended a hand, shaking his firmly despite the clear hesitance from him. "No Ryan with you today, huh? You guys go everywhere together." She raised a suggestive eyebrow. "So I'm told."

He shrugged, hands on his hips. "Yeah, I sucked his dick. So what."

She raised a hand. He paused before realizing it was an offered high-five. He high-fived her. He wasn't too sure why.

"You want for here or take away?" asked Katt, half-turning to look at her. 

"Mm. Best make it take away." Norris stretched lazily as Shane finally sat down again at the bar, a few seats away. "So, Detective Madej. What's your story. What's got you shoving your big ol' pointer so far up everyone's asses."

"Excuse me?" He threw his hands up. "Why is everyone an asshole today? My nose is a bit pointy, yes, but-"

"Shh shh shh." She waved a dismissive hand, the leather fingerless gloves shining in the low light. He noticed the metal studs on the knuckles, swallowing. "Answer the question."

He rested his arm on the bar, wrist draping off the edge. "Hm. What asses are you referring to."

"I-" She paused, sitting upright as the bell tingled yet again. "Fuck!"

He watched in bafflement as she rammed her helmet back on over her head, swiping her coffee off the table and sprinting right across the room. She didn't stop. She jumped right through the small window, helmet-first, soaring away with a shattering of glass. Shane shot to his feet, instantly sitting down again as he saw who had entered. The Chef ignored them, going right to the nearest table, ducking down, taking a taped envelope off the underside. Two envelopes. He crossed to the bar, limping a little, handing one over it to Katt, who looked just a bit puzzled. Shane looked from the envelopes to him, his hands gripping the bottom of his seat tightly. He took a deep breath as the Chef didn't look away, holding his gaze. Then he stopped right in front of him, head-to-toe in black, his scarf wrapped up around his chin.

"Tell your friend to back off," he muttered, looking him up and down. "And you missed my kneecap by like, two centimeters. You're lucky you didn't get me there, or I would take your face off your skull right now."

Shane nodded, swallowing. He could already feel a cold sweat beginning to break out. "Okay. Sorry."

Shane only let himself relax once the Chef had left, the bell tingling its last tingle of the night. He rubbed a hand down his face, his mind trying and failing to process exactly what was swirling around him, brewing around him, what he'd dived into the middle of without a second thought. So _that_ had been the guy who'd tried to kill Ryan. The guy who'd almost succeeded too. Shane slapped a hand against the side of his face as he finally clicked why Ryan had been so fucked up in the kitchen the first day they'd come here. Shit, how had he been so oblivious to everything?

"Oh, sweet!" Katt smiled brightly. "Flights to Arizona! Early Christmas present from my boss. Hell yeah."

Shane buried his face in his hands, elbows on the bar. "I need another drink. And this time just- just something strong."

He slowly sat back up as his phone buzzed, taking it out, putting it to his ear with all the enthusiasm of a dead man. "Yo. What's up."

"We need to talk." Ryan sounded like he'd been running, his breathing heavy. "Meet me at mine. As soon as you can."

"Mm. Okay." Shane got to his feet, stretching like he'd just woken up from a ten-year-sleep, when really it had just been ten minutes of stressful encounters that had worn him out. "Whereabouts in Arizona are the flights for, Katt?"

She glanced at the ticket again. "Uh, Tusk-on?"

"Tucson. Soft 'c'." He sighed wearily, dragging himself towards the door. "I have a feeling I might be seeing you there."

* * *

"No. You're not coming."

"Excuse me?" Shane got to his feet, glaring at the other man, who was pacing back and forth like a businessman facing a plunge in the stock market. "You can't tell me what to do, Ryan."

"Shane, I don't know how to say this without sounding mean-"

"Then don't say it."

"-but you will be a liability." Ryan shrugged, as if he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, but you're just too- too-"

"Unreliable?" suggested Shane, just a whole lot bitter. "Irresponsible? C'mon. Spit it out."

"You're too inexperienced! I don't know!"

"I'm too _inexperienced?_ Are you fucking serious?" Shane shook his head in disbelief. "I have five fucking years on you, Bergara. So watch it."

"Five years being a damn desk jockey, Shane!" Ryan spread his arms, as if he shouldn't even have to explain himself. "You can't fight. You're _clumsy_. You don't know half the stuff that's happening, you-"

"I don't know half the stuff that's happening because of _you_ keeping it away from me!" His words were rough with anger, hands tight on his hips. "So- So you're going to just fuck off literally the same day we decide we're a thing? Leave me here to fucking stew?"

"It's my _job_ , Shane." He jabbed a finger at the ground with the emphasized word, a stern look on his face. "My job is my priority. I have to do it."

"Well so do I, bud. And my job requires that I finish this case. Alright?"

"Shane, don't." Ryan watched him storm away, folding his arms across his chest. "You probably don't even want to go. You're just doing it to annoy me."

"Do you even understand how _sick_ with literal worry I would be every day?" He stood at the kitchen table, one hand pressed to it, the other on his hip. "Waiting up to make sure you're even alive? Maybe I'll be lucky enough to get a text at the end of the day, just a little heads up that you're not dead in a ditch somewhere?"

"Stop babying me!"

"Stop pushing me away!" replied Shane just as fiercely. 

"This is _exactly_ why I've avoided dating people outside my line of work." Ryan rubbed his hands down his face, groaning in frustration. "This is my job. This is how my job works. You're just going to have to deal with it."

"I will deal with it. But I'm coming."

"You're _not_."

"And how are you going to stop me, huh?" Shane crossed towards him, not breaking eye contact. "You're gonna tell Tinsley I can't come because we're dating? Is that gonna go down well, hm?"

Ryan gritted his teeth in irritation. "Don't make me end this, Shane. Don't make me end it before it's even started."

Shane leaned down towards him, speaking quietly, each word low but sincere. "I am walking right onto that plane with the rest of you, and I'd damn well smuggle myself on if I had to. You know I would."

Ryan didn't look away, breathing heavily, jaw set. "Shane. I _will_ end this if you don't back off."

The taller man straightened back up, looking down his nose as him, a lingering look as he turned away. "Suit yourself."

"So you'll stay."

"No. You're ending it."

Ryan closed his eyes, hearing the forced lightness in the other man's voice. "Come on. Stop fucking around."

Shane shrugged, sitting down at the table, legs crossed. "Just say the words, Ryan. Just say we're done, and let's see how that pans out."

"You're being an asshole."

"You're preventing a federal agent from doing his job." Shane raised his eyebrows. "That's a crime, pal."

"Shut up." Ryan gave him a warning look, arms still folded across his chest. After a minute's silence, he tilted his chin up, sniffing. "Fine. We're done."

Shane smiled an easy smile. "Great."

"I'm- I'm breaking up with you."

"Fantastic. I love it." Shane let the words roll off his tongue in a lazy drawl, resting his chin in his hand. "I'm so glad we can agree that this is the best course of action. Yes?"

Ryan struggled to keep his composure as the other man got to his feet, closing the space between them. "We're done. I mean it. Unless you agree to stay here."

Shane smiled again at the shaky inhale he could hear, standing just in front of the shorter man. "Oh, no, I'm fine with this. Are you fine with this?"

Ryan nodded stiffly, his entire body tensing as the taller man placed a gentle hand on his chest. "I'm fine. Are _you_ fine?"

"I've never been better." Shane kept his gaze lowered, following the movement of his hand as he let his fingers slip around the shorter man's throat, gentle, running upwards. "Hm. Your pulse is... a little above average right now, isn't it?"

Ryan swallowed hard, his heart jumping in his chest. "No."

Shane tilted the shorter man's head back, holding him by the jaw, seeing him beginning to crack already. "Yes. Yes, it is." He whispered the words against his parted lips. "But we're done. By your hand. So..." He let go, fingertips trailing along his neck as he stepped around him, swanning towards the door. "See you at eight am sharp, little guy." He paused in the doorway, turning to face him, leaning against the frame. "Unless, of course, we don't part ways quite yet. Which is entirely up to you."

Ryan shook his head, a bit of a subtle gesture, as if hoping the other man wouldn't pick up on it. Shane smiled, giving the door frame a light slap as he turned away.

"Alright then. Goodnight, Ryan. See you tomorrow!"

Ryan let his breath out as the door closed, his shoulders slumping, arms falling back to his sides. "Well fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/KZ5kjjk-J4U?t=17 fran at the bar
> 
> yes i used papa instead of daddy because that word is forever tarnished. also lowkey i fuckin love writing the kids' interactions with shane lmao  
> btw i got the idea for this plot right from the Boys themselves https://youtu.be/5zfZhskSmp0?t=163 
> 
> if ruth and chuck could have a theme song in this it's this  
> https://youtu.be/4OHuD3sbOvQ  
> kind of a spoiler
> 
> also also for those who are visual-minded this is who i picture the up-and-coming/introduced characters as:  
> Holly Horsley = requires one clip and one clip only. https://youtu.be/2PjZAeiU7uM?t=94  
> Francesca Norris = Jade Eshete (kinda along these lines https://youtu.be/72o_ijNkp24)  
> C.C. Tinsley = Nick Offerman (especially the giggles)  
> Ricky Goldsworth = Oscar Isaac (specifically this character https://youtu.be/_1GEm6Wis-k)  
> Banjo McClintock = Sam Elliott (clip with banjo and shane inspired by https://youtu.be/5C0D4ndt7jg?t=73)  
> The Chef = Lee Byung-hun (aka storm shadow from the gi joe movies yeeeeow)  
> Katt the Bartender = Lana Condor


	11. Can't Play Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plane/train/helicopter journey that's fun for all the family. A new enemy makes himself known. Shane and Ryan move in together.

Ryan looked at the compartment above the seats again. Just in case. Literally, just for the case. The case that held the two books; Ecclesiastes, and Vietnamese symbolism. Both which were codes just waiting to be cracked. He could see Kelsey looking at the compartment above her own seats, also just to make sure her decoy case hadn't been swiped. Even though it would've been pretty difficult to steal a case from a compartment on an airplane with nowhere to run. 

"Dude." Ryan dropped his gaze, glaring at the man next to him. "You're manspreading like a douche."

"Look at my legs. Then look at the space I have." Shane didn't look up from his book as he spoke. "It's either I inconvenience you a little, or I break my knees."

"Do I get to choose?"

A wry smile. "No. Not now."

"Ha. Right." Ryan looked at the spare seat to the other side of him, the one near the aisle. That was where a one Francesca Norris was supposed to be perched. "I wonder why she didn't turn up."

"Probably found out she was sitting beside you."

Ryan exhaled sharply, letting his head fall back against the seat. "Oh my _God_. You are so damn bitter."

"Well yeah. We only broke up, uh, _yesterday_." Shane threw him a sidelong look, eyebrow raised. "So blame yourself."

"No, _you_ blame _your_ self." He dropped his voice to a hiss. "If you had just stayed in Washington I-"

"Oh, like a good little house-husband? Maybe I could've baked a cherry pie for when you came back. Whenever the hell that was gonna be."

Ryan shook his head, teeth gritted. "Why the hell did it have to be you who got assigned to this case? Anyone else. Anyone else would've been life-changing."

"Yeah, it's almost as if I was assigned to help you because I'm good at my job," replied Shane, just a bit sharply. "It's almost as if I could be useful, and could've been useful since the very beginning. But alas, 'twas not to be."

"Shut up." Ryan reached over, pulling the guy's eye mask back down over his eyes, ignoring the irritated mutters. "Go to sleep. Go."

Shane pulled the mask back up just as the air hostess came down the aisle, trolley rattling. "Oh, sweet. I'll just have a gin and tonic."

"Uh, no you won't." Ryan turned, shaking his head at the air hostess. "No he won't."

"As an authority unto myself, I actually will."

"Look, you wanted to come here. You wanted to get involved. And on missions like these there is a strict no-alcohol rule. For everyone involved."

"Oh, that sucks." He looked back at the baffled air hostess with a nod. "One G&T, please and thank you."

"No!" Ryan looked to the air hostess. "Don't give him that drink. We're fine. Thanks."

"We haven't even landed yet, Ryan!" Shane watched the air hostess continue on with relief clear on her face. "So technically, the, uh, _mission_ hasn't even started."

"The mission starts the second Tinsley speaks about it. There isn't a start date. And there sure as hell isn't an end date."

"I swear to God, if I miss Thanksgiving dinner because of this-"

"Shut up. Shut up and go to sleep. Shit."

Shane gave him a moody scowl, going to pull down his eye mask again. "If you're going to be like this the entire time we're here, I'm gonna flip."

"You're the one who insisted we get a shared apartment. So screw you."

"Well the choices were either me or fucking Goldsworth," replied Shane just as heatedly. "And he'll be sharing an apartment with you over my dead body."

The drawled response came from behind them. "Yeah. Maybe."

Shane leaned around the gap between his and Ryan's seats to narrow his eyes at Goldsworth. "Shut up. Asshole." 

Goldsworth gave him a dark look before going back to his magazine. The gash on the side of his face had had to be stitched, and he was therefore a few painkillers in. This was good, as it prevented him from having the pizzazz necessary to reach over a seat and strangle a six-foot-four man to death in front of a plane full of people.

Ryan slumped lower in his seat, arms folded over his chest. For him, it was quite the nightmare situation. "I would've been fine by myself in an apartment."

"Oh yeah, and then me and Goldy could've shared an apartment. Delightful." He closed his book over. "And what if someone tried to break in and, oh, I don't know, murder you?"

Ryan turned his head, glaring right into his eyes. "Stop babying me."

" _You_ stop babying _me,_ " he replied, not looking away. "I'm a grown-ass man and this is my job. I force myself to eat vegetables sometimes. I pay taxes. So stop trying to get me to somehow decide to go home, alright?"

Ryan looked away, still glowering, this time at the back of the seat in front of him. "If you die, I'm gonna have a hard time forgiving myself."

"Yeah. I'll have a hard time forgiving you too." Shane went back to his book, finally. Then he sneaked a sidelong glance at the other man, seeing the worried look on his face. "Ryan. I won't die. Relax."

"Do you know how many people say that before they fucking die?"

"Well unless there's someone on this plane who wants to spontaneously kill me, I think I'm good for the next..." He checked his watch. "...four hours."

"Then it's a free-for-all, Madej."

Shane leaned around the seat again, scowling at the man behind them. "Do you mind? I'm trying to have a serious discussion here."

"Yeah. Sure."

"And stop kicking my seat."

"I'm not."

"You are. I can _see_ you." Shane jerked forwards as the seat was kicked very hard indeed, his hands grabbing the arms to stay vaguely upright. "Stop it, asshole!"

Goldsworth simply stuck his tongue out at him, flipping him off simultaneously. Shane gave him a lingering scowl before sitting back in the seat, arms folded across his chest. He could see Sara's curls a few rows ahead, bouncing as she talked animatedly to Steven and Andrew beside her. He could also make out Kelsey's blue headphones, and beside her, Jazzmyne. The whole gang was there. He glanced at Ryan, who had shifted to the free seat beside the aisle, due to the commotion of the two men he was stuck beside. And he was beginning to wonder exactly what went through his head when he started liking people.

"You know, I was pretty impressed the other night," muttered Goldsworth, leaning forwards to talk to Shane. "Not a lot of people cross me and get away."

"Tootin' your own horn there, aren't you."

"I see you and Ryan have hit a bit of a bump." Goldsworth sucked air in through his teeth. "Oooh, rough. Hopefully Ryan won't be looking for rebound sex, right?"

Shane didn't reply for a moment. Then he turned his head to look him in the eye, his face entirely serious. "I can get another glass in two seconds, Goldsworth."

"Mm. And I could kill you with my bare hands in five different ways. Right now."

Shane nodded at this, considering it. "Right. You win. But just remember that at about, hm, let's say half eleven tonight? I'm gonna be inside your ex."

He could almost hear the man's teeth grinding. "You aren't together anymore."

"Not right now, no. But that's pretty irrelevant, I think."

A silence. "Right."

"Mm. And you know what else?" Shane spoke as casually as if he was reading a relatively interesting newspaper article to a friend, his voice low, relaxed. His eyes still skimmed his book. "I think after I'm done fucking him, I'll blow him too. Y'know. Just because I can."

He let his eyes wander aside at the prolonged silence, seeing that yes, Goldsworth was still right beside him. Stone still. Murderous gaze pinned on him.

"And who knows? Maybe after _that_ , I'll fuck him again!"

At first, he thought it was Goldsworth who'd moved. Instead, it turned out to be Ryan, on his feet. The man grabbed the book from Shane's surprised hands, shoving it right into Goldsworth's face, pushing him back into his own seat, letting the book fall through the gap after him. Then Ryan looked from one to the other, fists clenched by his sides, fuming.

"Stop talking about me like I'm a fucking piece of meat, you assholes. I'm literally two feet away. And I'm not a fucking prize for either of you to try and win just to, I don't know, spite each other or some shit. Jesus Christ." Ryan turned away, pausing in the aisle to give them both long glares again. "You know, Ricky, I expected nothing less from you. But _you_ , Shane. I'm fucking pissed."

Shane didn't even hear the derisive snort from Goldsworth as he shot out of his seat after the other man. "Ryan. Ryan, wait. Ryan!"

"Shh!" Ryan half-turned to scowl at him, seeing the multiple curious and/or disgruntled heads turning to watch the scene. He spoke in a hushed voice, his anger still audible nonetheless. "Leave me alone, Shane. I'm disappointed in you. I really am."

"Ryan. Ryan, just let me-"

"Just let you what?" Ryan stood beside Kelsey and Jazzmyne, and the empty seat he'd been eyeing up for the past hour of flight. "Let you charm your way out of this?"

"No! No, I just- I'm sorry." Shane rubbed one arm as he spoke, like a schoolboy getting scolded. "I don't know what I was doing. I don't think of you like that. It was just- I have a jealous streak, I guess."

"Yeah. No shit."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I was a total asshole there. Fuck." He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. "He just gets to me. And I know it's because of his, uh, history with you. And I know that I don't really have any right to be trying to, I don't know, get back at him or something? And I'm sorry if I'm babying you, or being overprotective, or like, overly careful, it's just-"

"Shane." Ryan placed a gentle hand on his arm, looking up at him. "You're blabbering."

Shane lowered his gaze, reddening. "Sorry. I'll-"

"No, it's good." Ryan gave a small smile, only a small one. He wasn't quite willing to just let it slide yet. "You only blabber when you're being sincere."

Shane pressed his lips together, the smile not quite reaching the rest of his face. "Yeah. I guess I do." He sighed wearily as the other man's hand finally slid off his arm. "I get if you want to sit up here now. I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry."

Ryan looked up at him, biting on his lip as he searched the other man's eyes. God, for a guy so big, he could sure as hell make himself seem very small indeed in a matter of seconds. "If I sit back there, I want no more of that shit. And just ignore Ricky. That's a must."

"Glady. I'll gladly ignore him."

Ryan nodded, still looking a bit pensive. "And I want that."

Shane raised his eyes, as if he could even see the eye mask resting amid his hair, making it stick up in tufts. "Huh?"

"I want to sleep. And you owe me for being a total douche."

Shane immediately took it off, handing it over. "Fine. It's the least I could do, I guess."

"Yeah. It is the least you could do." Ryan went back down the aisle with him, seeing Kelsey and Jazzmyne appearing over their seats to give the two men equally puzzled looks. "And just be quiet for the next four hours. Please."

Shane sat back down in his seat beside the window, raising an eyebrow at the other man, who took his original seat beside him. "Well then why did you even agree to come back down here?"

Ryan shrugged, suddenly looking a bit bashful as he held the eye mask in his hands, rubbing a thumb over it. "I dunno. Just wanted to."

"Oh. Okay. Cool."

Ryan looked away, his fingers fidgeting with the mask. Then he took his coat out of his bag, placing it on his lap. Then he pushed up the arm of the seat between them, moving closer, adjusting his coat around him like a blanket, pulling the eye mask down as he rested his head on Shane's shoulder. Shane attempted to stifle his smile, like you do when you see a puppy in the park but don't want to squeal in public. After a moment, he settled his arm around the other man's shoulders, feeling him scooch closer, his head on Shane's chest now. Shane raised his other hand, lightly brushing a thumb across the other man's stubbled cheek, fondly. And he watched the world slowly passing by outside the window, the towns and roads and fields far below, growing sandier and more barren with each hour that passed.

* * *

"We're gonna miss it."

"We're not."

"We are, it's- That's it! Right there!"

The group turned to look at the train on the platform through the turnstalls, hearing its whistle blowing. Ryan's eyes widened in alarm, already seeing the rest of them whipping out their badges in lieu of their tickets.

"Don't let that train go until we're on it!" said Shane as he passed by one of the wide-eyed staff. "That's an order, private."

"Ohhh shit." Ryan followed the rest of them, panicking. "If we miss this Tinsley is gonna kill me. _Kill_ me."

"I told you we shouldn't have stopped for those stupid hot-dogs," said Goldsworth, throwing a narrow-eyed look at Shane ahead of them, getting onto the train. 

"Leave it, Ricky."

"Fine. Whatever."

Within minutes, they were settled. The train was chugging out of the station. And Ryan immediately felt his fight-or-flight response kick in. He leaned into the aisle, then knelt up on his chair, a frown on his face. Shane looked up at him with a curious eyebrow raised.

"Where is everyone?"

Shane didn't respond for a moment. Then he stood up, turning back and forth as he checked the carriage. It was entirely empty but for them. "Huh." 

He went to the closest door, feeling Ryan's hand on his arm, ready to pull him to safety at any second. There were other passengers on the train, yes. But not for another two carriages. They themselves were on the last one. Ryan turned to the look at the others, seeing Kelsey with her headphones off for once, all of them on edge. Goldsworth got to his feet, moving down to the door, shoving between Ryan and Shane.

"I'll go see what's up."

Ryan went to follow. Then he stopped, realizing just how unwilling he was to leave Shane alone. _Well shit_.

So the group waited. Kelsey held her case. Ryan handed his to Steven and Andrew. He'd need his hands free if this was going to go the route it might go. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Twenty. Half an hour. Ryan paced back and forth, hands on his hips, quickly growing impatient. He was about to speak, when the train jerked forwards, making him stumble back to the ground, the rest of them letting out surprised shouts. Slowly, slowly, the train shuddered to a halt. Shane went to the window, looking out across the vast expanse of desert. His gun was already in his hand. 

"Guys." Steven was at the door to the other carriage, hands pressed to the glass. "Uh, the rest of the train is gone."

"What?" Ryan squeezed in beside him, seeing that yes, the train was continuing on without them. It was just the carriage ahead that had stayed linked. He pushed open the door, striding right in, the rest following. 

"I- I can see someone." Shane raised his gun, aiming it at the door ahead of them, hearing the rest of them drawing their own. "Is it Goldsworth?"

"No. Too tall."

And it was too tall to be Goldsworth. It was also a woman, and she was black, and she was still wearing biker gear. So yes, it was not Goldsworth. She shoved open the door, pushing her goggles up off her eyes with a sigh. 

"It is hot as _balls_ out there." Norris looked at the drawn guns, hands on her hips. "What? I just saved your lives. Don't shoot me."

"Did you detach the fucking train?" asked Ryan, lowering his gun. 

"Uh, yeah. Because I saw that sneaky guy talking to McClintock's guys. What's his name." She clicked her fingers as she thought. "Uh, the bearded guy, small, radiates the same energy as a chihuahua-"

"Goldsworth," said Shane instantly.

She grinned, pointing at him. "That's the bastard."

They reluctantly lowered their guns, Ryan still openly puzzled. "Goldsworth was what?"

"Okay, let me explain." Norris leaned on the seat beside her, gesturing knowledgeably with her free hand. "Horsley said I could use her private jet. Hence the reason I wasn't on your flight - thanks for the open concern - but I get a call from her halfway through saying McClintock had fixed something about this train." Norris' eyes widened. "And I'll tell you something, those few carriages ahead are _crawling_ with McClintock's guys. So Horsley buys out the last two carriages so that they can't get on, and here I am to save you. You are welcome."

There was a silence. Then Shane spoke up. "How are we meant to get to Tucson though."

Norris frowned at him in confusion before rolling her eyes. "Jeez. Sometimes I forget what it's like for the folks who don't have Horsley employing them. Come on."

The group followed her hesitantly out the door, into the sandy hotness of the world outside. Ryan slipped his sunglasses on, peering around the vast expanse of desert. Nothing. He turned his head to look at Norris again, who was on her phone. His narrowed eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses as he looked her up and down. She wouldn't try to take on all of them, would she? And even more so, why would Horsley suddenly want them dead? He held off on his suspicions for now. And he was right to. The two distant black dots quickly grew large, very large, blades whipping the sand up around them as they came into land. Shane was smiling in unrestricted delight.

"You ever been in a helicopter?" asked Norris over the deafening sound of spinning blades, grinning at his face. 

"Only in my dreams." Shane followed her to the nearest one, looking back at the two train carriages. "What about them?"

"Not my problem," she shrugged. "I was told to get you guys to Tucson safe, and that's that on that."

Ryan got onto the same one, still feeling very much on edge. "Why was Ricky talking to Banjo's guys?"

Norris shrugged, popping on her own headset before giving out the spare ones. "I don't know, bro. I'm guessing he's two-timing your ass."

"That's probably why he didn't tell you about his 'interrogation' of Katt," said Shane, looking at Ryan. "Maybe he wasn't finding answers for you. Maybe it was for someone else."

"He did what?" Norris looked mad, a glare on her face. "You mean Katt the bartender?"

"Yeah. Two nights ago. He was fucking punching her and shit." Shane tapped the side of his face, the red mark just visible through his beard. "And he wouldn't have stopped anytime soon."

"Son of a bitch bastard." Norris turned her scowl out the window, at the endless sand separated only by the train tracks. "Next time I see him, his ass is grass."

Ryan didn't join in on the conversation. From this vantage point, he could see the rest of the train in the distance, flying off into the horizon. And on it was a potential disaster that would've cut their mission very, very short. But why would Banjo McClintock want them dead? He pouted as he thought. After an undetermined amount of time spent tuning out Shane and Norris' easy banter, he was dragged into the conversation by a firm slap on the leg from Shane.

"Well, little guy." Shane nodded out the window on his side. "A new challenger approaches."

Ryan frowned at him, leaning over. And there it was; a giant compound, which looked like a prison more than anything else. "What the hell is that? It's massive!"

"Banjo's compound, bro. Or the Ranch, as he calls it." Norris pressed her lips together, raising her eyebrows. "Thought you might want to have an idea of what you're getting into."

Shane and Ryan stayed glued to the window, hands pressed to the glass as their eyes followed the compound passing by below. It was so vast that it seemed to not move at all. There was a house in the center, a giant, built like an old west mansion. Around it was a wire fence, and little figures moved along it, with smaller four-legged figures. There were stables too, and horses. Giant floodlights dotted the tall walls that surround the compound, and on the walls themselves were even more figures. Shane could see them looking up at the helicopter, raising their hands to shield their eyes. He sat back, Ryan doing the same. 

"What does Banjo do, exactly?" asked Ryan after a stunned silence.

"He _was_ a drug dealer," said Shane. "He's obviously grown a bit since I last heard about him. Looks like he runs a damn cartel now."

Norris shrugged. "Essentially, yeah. I'd say hundreds of mules pass through that place every day. It's a damn oasis out here. And he's looking to expand, apparently."

Ryan tilted his head, curious. "What does Horsley have to do with all this?"

Norris smiled, tapping the side of her nose. "Take what you have for now, Bergara. Don't make it blow up in your face."

Shane leaned back to the window, stealing a last glance at the compound. "He calls that the Ranch? As in, cowboy shit?"

"Mmhmm. Breeds horses on the side."

"Well damn. That's some Westworld-worthy Ranch, isn't it."

* * *

Shane pushed open the door to the apartment, pulling a face. It was pretty small, pretty cramped. At least that might be a sign that they might not be there for that long. He frowned as Ryan jostled him aside, going further into the apartment, throwing his bag onto the couch. Then he peered down the hallway to the left, quickly disappearing. Shane finally shut the door, already cranky. Probably because he was hungry. They hadn't had a chance to even breathe since they landed; first it was straight to the main station, where three detectives had been expecting them; a TJ, a Devon, and a Mark. They'd given them the run-down, which was less of a run, and more of a stumble in the dark. Nothing made sense about the crime scene at all, and it probably wouldn't make sense after they'd seen it, either. Shane had just taken out his phone to see what takeouts were around when Ryan strolled back into the room, speaking a sentence that set Shane's teeth on edge.

"Well, you're getting the couch."

Shane didn't move for a second. Then he turned his head to look at him. "What?"

"One bed. And I don't partake in sharing beds with my exes." Ryan went to the fridge by habit, shoulders slumping when he found it empty. "So I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch."

"Woah woah woah." Shane shrugged his jacket off, throwing it onto said couch. "You can fit on the couch easier. _You're_ getting the couch."

"You know, the funny thing is that I am _not_ getting the couch," replied Ryan lightly, at least finding some coffee in the place. That'd do for now. "Because I will physically stop you from getting the bed. Yeah?"

Shane rolled his eyes, standing with his arms folded. "Don't be childish, Ryan. We can sleep in the same bed."

"Uh, no, we can't. Because the process doesn't go; number one, get a crush. Number two, get together. Number three, break up. Number four, move in together."

"I'll agree, it's a bit nontraditional. But hey, we're gays in 2018."

"I am not sharing a bed with you," said Ryan firmly, making a cutting motion with his hand. "That's final."

"I can't fit on this couch, Ryan!" Shane lay back on it, immediately sitting up again. "I'm not sleeping here. I'll fight you for the bed."

"You'll fight me?" Ryan laughed, stirring the two mugs. "Right. Bring it, big guy."

Shane was already crossing towards him, not taking his eyes from Ryan's. "Hit me. You get one chance before I smoke your ass."

"Please. Don't do this to yourself."

"Oh, you may know Krav Maga-"

"That's for the Israeli army, you idiot."

"-but I grew up on the streets."

"You grew up in Chicago."

"I grew up with an older brother. You don't have that experience."

"I have experience of being in literal life-threatening situations, though."

Shane paused, glaring at him. "Stop being mean. Let's just fucking rumble."

"I'm not going to fight you," said Ryan dryly, hands on the edge of the counter as he leaned on it. "I'm not _that_ mad at you."

"I'm taking the bed."

"You're not taking the bed!"

"Mm, funny, because I'm literally on my way to do it right now," replied Shane, picking his bag up off the couch as he passed by it. "Sleep tight, babes."

Ryan followed, glaring at the back of his head. "Shane. I called dibs."

"Yeah, and I challenged your calling of dibs." Shane turned in the doorway to the room, resting against the frame. "Which you backed out of. So I win. It's the law."

Ryan looked up at him, a pensive eyebrow raised. Then he suddenly drew back his fist, and threw a punch right at the taller man's face. He pulled it at the last second, seeing Shane flinch just a little, hair bouncing, his eyes closed. After a second, he opened one eye, looking down at the shorter man. He smiled.

"I knew you wouldn't."

Ryan swallowed. "Shut up."

"Funny how you still won't hurt me. Even though we're not together anymore."

"I wouldn't punch anyone in the face without a reason. You're not special."

"Mm." Shane raised an eyebrow, tilting his chin up. "And you don't have a reason to punch me in the face, no?"

Ryan shook his head, a subtle movement. "No. I have multiple reasons."

"Then why didn't you do it."

"I don't know."

Shane watched his face for a moment, his gaze flickering up and down it. Ryan looked away, clearing his throat, hands on his hips. Shane straightened up off the door frame with a small smile.

"Bed's mine."

Ryan lingered in the doorway, watching the other man swan over to the bed, chucking his bag onto it before sitting down himself. And he looked at Ryan. Expectantly. And Ryan looked back, his jaw set stubbornly.

"C'mon." Shane spoke quietly, as if he and Ryan weren't the only ones in the apartment. "We both still want this."

Ryan pressed the side of his fist against the door frame, giving it a few thoughtful thumps. "I wanted it more before you said that."

"But you still want it."

"Inexplicably." Ryan wandered into the room, arms folded across his chest. "But I'm not starting this with you, Shane. "

Shane shrugged, taking a packet of airplane peanuts out of his bag. "Fine. Suit yourself."

Ryan watched as the other man got to his feet, stretching leisurely as he wandered over towards him. He stopped just beside him, their shoulders overlapping, eyes locked. Shane smiled, rolling up his sleeves more firmly around his elbows. The cuts were still visible on his forearms, red scratches now.

"You're not allowed even _look_ at that bed," said Shane, seeing the warning look from the shorter man. "Let alone get into it. Unless I'm there, of course."

Ryan smiled, a small one. "You really think I'd whore myself out for a bed?"

Shane shrugged, letting his gaze wander absent-mindedly as he tossed the little bag in his hand. "Eh. Give it a day or two."

Ryan followed him out into the hallway, strolling behind him, arms still folded. "I don't have time for this shit, dude. I really don't."

"Alright." Shane came to a halt on the opposite side of the counter, elbows resting on it. He tossed a peanut into his mouth. "So the real reason you didn't want me to come was because I'm a distraction, hm?"

"Partly."

"What's the other part?"

"What I said first," replied Ryan, folding his arms on the counter. "A liability."

Shane nodded, closing his eyes. "Mm, baby. Hurts just as much as the first time."

"Does it?" Ryan grinned, straightening up off the counter. "I thought if it had hurt, you would've stayed."

"I'm a machine that runs on spite, Bergara. You're only feeding me fuel."

"Mm. Speaking of feeding." Ryan took out his phone, leaning on the counter again. "I'm hungry. You want food?"

Shane nodded, still popping peanuts. "Yeah, I'm starving."

Ryan glanced at him, a quick once-over. "What food do you want?"

Shane didn't respond. Then he gave a dry smile, head tilted slightly. "How about Mexican?"

"I don't know if-" It was Ryan's turn to pause then. He raised his head to glare at him. "Ha. Funny."

"Something _really_ hot and spicy."

"Shut up, idiot."

"It's what I feel like, Ryan." He shrugged, lazily tossing another peanut into his mouth. "It's what I want."

Ryan sighed heavily. "Well we're getting pizza."

"Fine. Whatever." Shane let the empty packet of peanuts land on the counter, pushing it away. "And then-"

"Trash." Ryan nodded at the packet. "Put that in the trash, dude."

Shane narrowed his eyes at him, straightening up with attitude. He snatched the empty packet off the counter, crunching it up before binning it. "And then we're straight out to the scene, huh?"

"Seems like it." Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Hm. Apparently still no sign of Ricky."

"So he's a lying prick, is he?"

Ryan rubbed a hand across his mouth as he thought. "Yeah. Fuck."

"Indeed." Shane yawned long and loud, stretching. "Well, I'm gonna take a quick nap. In my lovely bed."

Ryan rolled his eyes, stifling his wry smile. "That's great."

Shane was already unbuttoning his shirt, but he wasn't moving anywhere. He smiled at him. "See you in half an hour, then."

"Mm." Ryan didn't reply for a moment, arms folded on the counter. He straightened up, taking his forgotten mug of coffee with him. "I'll walk you."

"Aw. Chivalry isn't dead." 

They wandered down the dark hallway, slowing as they got to the door. Ryan leaned back against the wall beside it with his mug in both hands, smiling up at him. Shane smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes were holding a different emotion, heavy-lidded as they moved from Ryan's eyes to his mouth and back up. Slowly. Ryan took a mouthful of coffee, his gaze not leaving the taller man's. Neither of them moved. 

"Goodnight, Ryan."

"Goodnight, Shane." He took a sip of lukewarm coffee, watching the taller man over the rim. "Set your alarm, because I won't be waking you when the food arrives."

"You sure know how to make a guy feel special." Shane pushed open the bedroom door, hand resting on the handle. "You need to shave."

"Aw. I think it's cute when we match."

"Is that why you haven't brushed your hair?" Shane grinned, pulling lightly at one of the dark strands. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?"

Ryan went to reply, pausing as he felt the hand slip down to softly cup his face. He lowered his gaze as he felt the thumb brush lightly over his lips, Shane's index finger tilting his head back simultaneously. Then the taller man just smiled, and went into the room, and closed the door firmly behind him. Ryan sighed quietly, an irritated sound. He eventually moved from the hallway, back into the main sitting area, giving the couch a disapproving once-over. He looked back over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door, pressing his lips together in a firm line. Then he sat down, and opened up his laptop, and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/L3FfSyzXM44
> 
> francesca norris theme. because i love writing her


	12. Enigmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crime scene provides more questions than answers. A background player shows herself. Shane dives headfirst into a bad idea. Ryan doesn't sleep on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw again y'all

The stars and the moon shone above, the only light around but for the jeep's headlights. The sandy ground was patchy with dried grass, an odd cactus or five popping up in the distance, lonely silhouettes. Piles of boulders lay in strange places like they'd been placed there by giants. Shane held onto the roof handle of the jeep, sparing a glance in the rear view mirror. The town's lights were long gone now. Nothing but desert for miles. His eyes landed on Ryan's face where he was watching out the window, a hand resting pensively over his mouth as the jeep bumped along. 

"Now the place is still pretty busy," said the detective driving them. "Been scoured multiple times. No sign of who was with him. Only that someone was - or some _ones_  were - there with him."

Ryan nodded. "Pretty weird stuff, right?"

"Right." TJ listed off the items found, one hand still on the wheel. "Bulletproof vest. Belt buckle with a hidden knife in it. A holster. Sunglasses that apparently aren't his. Multiple weapons and ammo in the car. His own _tooth_ in a napkin in the backseat. A compass with no needles lying a few feet away. And that $2 bill pinned to his underwear."

"And it had Ecclesiastes twelve through eight written on it?" said Shane, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup. Along with seven Spanish surnames, and a scribbled map of the border area."

"And another map to his own place of death," added Shane, shaking his head in bafflement. "Some people and their hidden lives, right? Never know what they're hiding."

He ignored the subtle kick Ryan gave his seat. The jeep rumbled up a slope, the ground crunching under its wheels. TJ nodded to himself, checking the GPS.

"Yup. This is us here."

Shane frowned at the surrounding darkness. "Where?"

He spoke too soon. Over the uphill slope was a downhill one, and at the bottom was a setting that would've given any baseball stadium a run for its money. Floodlights did what their names suggested, the scene bathed in stark white light. More vehicles were parked around the end of the brightness, hidden in the dark. Apart from one; Chuck's Mercury Cougar sat where it had been found, a few white-suited figures fumbling around it. TJ parked the black jeep along the outskirts, cutting the engine. A few people raised their heads at the sound of the car doors slamming, watching the two newcomers approaching the scene. TJ, on the other hand, was a familiar face.

"When was the body moved?" asked Shane, looking at the markers which pinpointed Chuck's last waking moments. 

"Few hours after it was found," replied TJ, continuing on ahead. "I'll let you boys have a look around."

Shane moved towards the car, hearing Ryan following, their footsteps crunching. He glanced at one of the forensics people, only their eyes visible behind their white mask. "How was the body found?"

A muffled replied. "Face-down."

Shane nodded, as if contemplating this piece of information. He turned to Ryan, keeping his voice low. "It wasn't a suicide. No fucking way."

Ryan looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. "Well that's what the station here is putting forwards."

"Well then they all need help." Shane began walking away towards the darkness, one hand on his hip, the other gesturing vaguely as he spoke. "First, he's wearing a bulletproof vest. Second, he's shot in the _back_ of the head with his own gun, which is just inconvenient for him. And third, there was no way he was alone here. Not a chance." Shane raised an eyebrow. "C'mon. Don't tell me you somehow believe he shot himself here, despite the style of shooting and the fact he went to clear lengths to make sure he was ready to defend himself against an attack. The vest? The hidden knife? The others guns? Come on."

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, sparing a concerned look at the rest of the busy people. "But that means that the station here lied for some reason. They're in someone's pocket."

"No doubt." Shane casually straightened up, letting his gaze drift across the scene. "Everything was wiped for prints, too. Chuck couldn't have done that with his brain splatt-" He stopped himself, seeing the look on the shorter man's face. "Sorry. I, uh, I forget that you guys were friends."

"Mm." Ryan sighed heavily, arms folded across his chest. "So that means we can trust the force here as far as we can throw them. The list grows every day."

"And no one saw anyone come and go from here either."

"Nope. Apparently not."

Shane continued wandering out into the darker sands, climbing the small slope beside them. He ignored Ryan demanding that he get down, that he was meant to be a professional for God's sake. He stopped at the top, dusting his hands off, the sand cold and coarse. To the north lay Tucson, its yellow lights barely visible, twinkling in the distance, indistinguishable from the stars. To the left, the Ranch. Even from here he could see it; a cold white light, not the sort at the end of the tunnel. One gold, one silver. Shane pressed his lips together as he thought.

"Shane!" Ryan finally reached him, dusting the sand off himself too. "What is it? You could at least answer instead of just-"

"That's the Ranch," said Shane simply, pointing at it in the distance. "Awfully close."

Ryan sniffed, giving his nose a rub. "Yeah. I suppose." He glanced up at the taller man's face. "How involved do you think Banjo is in all this?"

Shane looked down at him, the two of them still facing the endless sands, two silhouettes against the starry sky. "I think he's right in there with the nitty-gritty stuff."

"Me too." Ryan stood with his hands on his hips, matching the taller man's stance. "Goldsworth always cut it down whenever I tried to say so."

"And now we know why." Shane shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Sly dog."

"I still don't know if he was betraying us, dude." Ryan raised his eyebrows under the sudden scowl that was thrown at him. "For all we know, he went to check out the rest of the train and got caught by Banjo's guys!"

"Norris said that he was talking to them. Chatting away to his buddies."

"Norris can't be trusted," replied Ryan just as firmly. "She did try to kill you like, two weeks ago. The only thing you can trust her to do is whatever Horsley tells her to do."

Shane nodded, flippant. "Whatever. Fair point."

"It's almost like you hope Ricky is against us," said Ryan dryly, turning away to begin the small descent down the equally dry sand. "Which is something you should definitely not wish for."

"I don't _wish_ for it," replied Shane, following. "I just wouldn't put it past him and I'm certain that I'm right because he's an asshole."

"I love how good you are at compromising. Really sweeps me off my feet."

"Ryan." The taller man raised an eyebrow at his smiling face. "Don't flirt with me when I'm trying to work. That's just cruel."

"Oh, you're actually trying to work now?" Ryan rolled his eyes. "Would've been great if you'd done that, I don't know, about three or four months ago?"

Shane waved a dismissive hand at him, heading back into the floodlights. "Whatever. Don't distract me."

"You are such a hypocrite," said Ryan dryly, staying where he was as his phone buzzed. He took it out, seeing the photo from Steven. It was a stone bird, a statue, outside a restaurant simply called 'The Bowl'. The accompanying text made him frown. " _Look familiar?_ Yeah. Yeah, it does. Hey, Shane."

Shane straightened up from where he was crouched down beside the open car door, peering under the seats. "Yeah?"

"Tell me what you think of when you see this."

Shane leaned in, narrowing his eyes at the photo. "That statue outside the Vietnamese place."

"Exactly." Ryan looked up at him. "There's one here too. Steven just found it."

Shane stared at him. Then he took the phone, striding a few steps away from the harsh floodlights so he could get a better look. "Okay, yeah, that's a bit odd. But it's not incriminating."

"Look at it, Shane," he said, an eyebrow raised. "Rundown part of town but immaculate statue?"

Shane nodded, zooming in on the stone bird. "And it has blue eyes too. Blue glass."

"So if you're right about the Chef getting those flight tickets," said Ryan quietly, his gaze lowered. "Then I guess we've found him." He took his phone back, turning away. "I'm gonna-"

"No." Shane shook his head firmly, following him. "You're not going there."

Ryan threw him a withering look. "Sure, dude. Whatever you say."

"I'm serious, Ryan!" He hurried around the shorter man to the car door first, leaning back against it. "He beat your ass. Twice. Let Steven and Andrew take care of it."

"Steven can't even hit a punching bag," said Ryan flatly. "He's scared he'll hurt it."

"Then I'm coming with."

"And what help would you be?"

Shane spread his arms. "I saved you last time!"

"You got lucky," said Ryan, arms folded across his chest. "Move."

The taller man shook his head. "No. I'm coming with you."

"You're ten times more useful here than where I need to go," said Ryan in a hushed voice. "This is what I have to do when I'm here. Don't start drawing attention."

"I'm not useful here. Everything's basically already done, man."

"You're actually _working_ here. You're doing good!"

"Stop trying to flatter me into doing what you want, Ryan."

Ryan shrugged. "I was gonna say it's kind of hot."

Shane rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Look. Look, let's compromise on this."

Ryan sighed sharply, averting his gaze for a moment. "Right. Fine. What do you have."

"You go tomorrow. During the day." Shane pressed his lips together in a firm line. "And I go with you but I'll wait in the car."

Ryan opened his mouth to reply, closing it with a frown at the sound of distant whirring. The whirring grew louder, choppier, the sand blowing up around them, whipping their shirts and hair in the wind. They simultaneously raised their hands to shield their eyes as a helicopter swung in over the hill, circling the crime scene, the forensics squad appropriately irritated as they hung onto their bags and tools and masks.

"Who's that?" shouted Shane over the roar, watching it come in to land on the flat ground. 

"Who do you think?" shouted back Ryan, already heading towards it.

The door to the chopper slid open with a thunk, the spinning blades only beginning to slow. Norris stepped out as casually as you'd step out of a taxi, stretching leisurely. Another woman of about fifty followed, stepping down to the ground in her heeled boots, her long grey coat whipping around her as she strode straight towards the scene. Norris followed, on her phone, disinterested in whatever her boss was doing. The other woman didn't stop to talk to anyone, going right past the expectant TJ, and even with her sunglasses on it was obvious that she didn't spare a look either way. She went right up to the car, hands in her coat pockets, her grey hair pinned up on top of her head. Ryan circled Shane to get to her, extending a hand.

"Ms Horsley."

The woman turned her head to look at him. Then she lowered her sunglasses, her steely grey eyes looking him up and down. Then she took the hand, giving it a firm shake. "Bergara. Good to know you got here safe."

"Thanks to you."

"And who's that?" She nodded towards Shane, taking her sunglasses off, blinking in the harsh light. She rubbed at her eye. "The tall fellow?"

"My name's Shane Madej," he said, not moving towards her. "FBI. I'm helping with the-"

"Madej?" She looked him up and down, as if considering something very interesting indeed. "Ah. I see." After a minute she turned back to Ryan, her gaze lowered thoughtfully. "Banjo got in contact."

Ryan nodded at this. "Right. So he knows we're all here."

"He knows. And he wants to talk." She smiled slightly. "Just like I knew he would."

"I'm hungry," said Norris, finally looking up from her phone. "We should've stopped before we got here."

"You said you'd be fine," replied Horsley irritably.

"I didn't know it was so far!"

"Well you're not getting another takeout."

"Oh, whatever." She sighed exasperatedly, putting her phone in her pocket. "So what's the deal? That's the guy's car and he got murked over there somewhere?"

"Through the back of the head." Shane paused. "Suicide. Apparently."

Horsley looked at him, a dubious eyebrow raised. "Why would he shoot himself through the back of the head?"

"Let's just say some stuff isn't adding up," said Ryan quietly, sparing a glance at the other cops still lingering around Chuck's car. "If you get what I mean."

"Certainly." She looked pensive, nodding slowly to herself. "Are you available tomorrow afternoon? I'll be paying a visit to the Ranch, to see what Banjo wants to discuss. Maybe I can aid in wrapping this all up sooner rather than later."

Ryan pulled a face. "I'm not, actually. I-"

"I'll go," said Shane with a shrug. "I'd like to meet this enigmatic Banjo."

Ryan went to object, but Horsley spoke first.

"You're qualified. I don't see why not." She shook his hand firmly. "I'll get in contact about the times. Stay local."

"Sure will."

Ryan stood in silent disbelief, staring straight at the sandy ground, his mouth hanging open. He turned his gaze to the taller man the second the two women moved on.

"What?" Shane raised an eyebrow at him, turning away. "You look like someone slapped you."

"You slapped me!" Ryan followed him towards the front of the car, eyes wide. "Metaphorically! You can't just go to Banjo with no one but them!"

Shane turned to face him, a hand on the bonnet as he leaned on it. "Well I wasn't gonna sit in the apartment and wait around for you to be done in that restaurant."

"You said you'd wait outside for me."

"I suggested that," replied Shane with a raised finger. "And from the look that was on your face, you were going to tell me to get stuffed."

Ryan glared at him. "You don't know that."

"And _you_ can't control your face," replied Shane with a small smile. "Uh-oh. Do I sense a sulk coming on?"

"Shut up." Ryan folded his arms across his chest, still openly unimpressed. "I can't believe you did that. I thought you were all about trusting each other."

"Don't make a mountain out of a molehill, little guy." Shane let his shoulders slump as the shorter man stepped around him, hearing the sand crunching as Ryan strode away. "Ryan. Come on."

"I'm going to that restaurant. And I'm going now."

He heard the footsteps approaching, felt the hand on his arm, turning him back to face the taller man. "Don't be an ass, Ryan. Just leave it til tomorrow."

"Don't be an ass?" Ryan laughed, a sharp sound. "You spent the last week complaining about how _concerned_ you are for my safety, and then you just turn around and do that to me?"

Shane opened his mouth. Then he shut it, looking a bit miffed. "Fine. Fine, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"No. You shouldn't have."

"But I'll be _fine_." Shane spread his arms. "Why would any of them hurt me? I know the least about what's going on out of everyone."

Ryan looked up at him, lips pressed together. "Fine. Fine, but keep your phone on you. Okay?"

Shane took his hand, a subtle movement, hidden from the rest. "Sure, man. Okay."

Ryan sighed heavily, looking down at their hands. "Okay."

* * *

**CAM01 Kỳ lân                                            22/10/18                                  18:32**

_....[unidentified]. [rescan]._

_....Ryan Bergara, US Treasury Department._

_....Shane Madej, Federal Bureau of Investigation._

**CAM01 Kỳ lân                                            25/10/18                                  19:17**

_....Richard Goldsworth, Central Intelligence Agency._

**CAM01 Kỳ lân                                            25/10/18                                  19:23**

_....Shane Madej, Federal Bureau of Investigation._

**CAM01 Kỳ lân                                             4/11/18                                   23:07**

_....Holly Horsley, US Congress._

_....Francesca Norris, [unknown]._

**CAM01 Kỳ lân                                            11/11/18                                   22:12**

_....Katt Chen, [off record]._

_....Shane Madej, Federal Bureau of Investigation._

_....Banjo McClintock, [unknown]._

_....[off record], [off record]._

**CAM02 Phượng Hoàng                              10/11/18                                   09:30**

_....[hidden]._

_....[hidden]._

_....[hidden]._

**CAM02 Phượng Hoàng                              12/11/18                                   11:02**

_....[unidentified]. [rescan]._

_....Steven Lim, US Treasury Department._

_....Andrew Ilnyckyj, US Treasury Department._

**CAM03** **Huyền Vũ [deactivated].**

**CAM04 Rồng [deactivated].**

**_Tứ Thánh Thú [report complete]._ **

* * *

"Holy shit, Ryan! Wake up!"

Ryan covered his eyes as the light was switched on, mumbling multiple curses. "Jesus Chr- What the fuck, Shane? Turn off the light!"

"No, no, look what I found." Shane sat on the arm of the sofa, laptop on his knee as he looked down at Ryan's sleepy face. "I was just looking up stuff, and-"

"It's half two in the morning, for God's sake!" Ryan tossed his phone back onto the small table beside him, rolling onto his back to scowl right up at the other man. "This better be important. This better be really fucking important."

"The land out there, where Chuck was found?" Shane turned the laptop to face Ryan, ignoring how the man narrowed his eyes against the sudden glare. "It's worth 732 million dollars. 732 million US dollars. For _that_ piece of crap?"

Ryan frowned at him. Then he finally pushed himself upright, keeping the blanket around him as he leaned in to get a closer look at the laptop. "Well fuck me. That land didn't strike me as particularly valuable, right?"

"Right." Shane raised his eyebrows. "What if that's the land?"

"The land? What land?"

"Chuck was involved in real estate escrow shit, right? Maybe some land deal got dirty." He shrugged. "I was just thinking over some stuff, y'know." 

Ryan stared at him for a moment. Then he rummaged in his bag for a pen and paper, scribbling this theory down. "How long have you been up for, dude?"

A pause. "I don't know. A while."

Ryan's pen slowed at his tone, raising his gaze to meet the other man's. "Can't sleep, huh."

Shane shrugged, looking back down at his laptop. He closed it over. "Just a bit restless."

"A bit restless." Ryan watched him stand back up, giving him a quick once-over; he was in his pajamas, yes, if only the bottoms. But his ruffled hair and bright eyes eluded to someone who hadn't slept at all yet. Not a wink. "Thoughts on your mind, hm?"

Shane placed his laptop on the kitchen counter, hands on his hips as he faced the other man. "Well yeah. That's where they always are. For everyone."

Ryan smiled at him, arms folded on the back of the couch. "I've had a _great_ sleep so far. Sofa's surprisingly comfy."

Shane shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Right. That's great."

A pause. "What thoughts are weighing so heavy on your mind, Shane? If you don't mind me asking."

The taller man gave him a wry look, one hand on the counter, fingers tapping out a slow rhythm. "You can't fool me with that naive act anymore, Bergara."

"I'm just curious," persisted Ryan, resting his chin in one hand as he distractedly picked at the back of the couch with the other. "It's important you get sleep."

"And are you gonna help me out, hm?"

Ryan pulled a sad face, the insincerity palpable. "Oh, I can't help you from all the way out here. And I'm not allowed in the bed. Under your own, uh, orders."

"You know my one rule." Shane rubbed a hand over his mouth, feeling the beard scratching his fingers. "My one exception. Could work out for both of us."

Ryan pretended to think, his gaze raised to the ceiling. "Um... I'll see how I feel in a bit."

Shane closed his eyes as the other man vanished back behind the sofa, hearing the blanket rustling. "Dick move, Ryan. That was just low."

No response. He turned away with a tut, going to the fridge, gaze landing on the leftover pizza. It wasn't his, and he was never one for eating other peoples' leftovers, but this time he might permit himself.

"You know, I don't even like jalapenos, Ryan," he said over his shoulder. "But I'm gonna eat this anyway."

There was no reply, which was very unusual altogether. He turned to look at the couch, eyes narrowed as he crossed towards it. Empty. No Ryan. Shane slowly turned his head to glare down the hallway, taking a bite of pizza, chewing it pensively. Then he tossed it onto the table, and strode down the hall.

Shane pushed open the bedroom door, arching a disapproving eyebrow at the dark bump in the bed. “Get out.”

Ryan’s eyes appeared over the covers. “No.”

“You know the rule. My one rule.”

“It’s important that I get my sleep,” replied Ryan haughtily. “So just go away.”

Shane stood at the side of the bed, looking down at the bundle that was Ryan. “I have no mercy. C'mon. Up.”

“Nooooo.” Ryan pushed his face into the pillow, pulling the covers tighter around him. He felt Shane give him an impatient push. “Don’t be mean.”

“You couldn’t even last one night on the couch?”

“Noooo, stop!” Ryan clawed at the covers, glaring at the taller man as they were pulled back. “You’re being stupid. You-”

He was cut off as Shane simple picked him up princess-style, carrying him out of the room, ignoring his indignant orders to return him to the bed. Shane came to a halt in front of the couch, smiling at the other man’s disgruntled face.

“You’re gonna sulk. I can see it already.”

“Great to know you have eyes in your head.” Ryan tightened his arms around the man’s neck. “The couch is uncomfy.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Well it should be.” Ryan looked thoughtful for a second, gaze distant. “What’s your balance like?”

“Uh, average, I guess. Wait, why?”

His question was swiftly answered. Ryan fixed his arms tightly around the taller man’s neck, dropping his legs to wrap them around Shane’s waist, using the momentum to pull Shane down onto the couch, pinning him to it. Shane blinked up at him, looking appropriately stunned.

“Yeah.” Ryan gave him two quick pats on the chest. “You stay there. Goodnight!”

“Hey, wh- No! Unfair! That was some John Wick bullshit!” Shane pushed himself off the couch after him, catching hold of him before he could reach the room, the two of them skidding slightly on the wood floor. He picked the shorter man up again, arms around his waist from behind. “Stop struggling! This is illegal!”

Ryan kicked out as he was swiftly carried backwards. His hands gripped Shane’s arms tightly, feeling the taller man’s breaths on his neck. “Put me down! This is just insulting.”

“Why are you so heavy!” Shane dumped him over the back of the couch, returning the flustered glare fixed on him. “Stay there! You agreed!”

Ryan knelt on the couch, hands gripping the back. “I didn’t know you were so fucking serious about not letting me in the bed! Come on!”

“Deadly serious.” Shane placed his hands on the back of the couch, leaning forwards so his face was inches from Ryan’s. “I offered to share the bed. But as you rightly said; exes don’t share beds.”

Ryan scowled at him. “You’re serious.”

“Mm. I’m serious.” He straightened back up, heading across to the kitchenette, taking another slice of pizza. “I think I’ll have a leisurely midnight snack before I go back to my wonderful big bed.” He waited for the response. He didn’t get one. “How do you feel about that? I- Shit!”

Ryan was gone from the couch. Shane hurried down the hallway, straight into the bedroom, seeing the silhouetted mountain of covers in the middle of the bed. Ryan’s eyes were just visible in the center, shining amid the darkness. They promptly vanished.

“Don’t be a damn baby, Bergara!” Shane reached into the covers, kneeling on the bed, struggling to get a firm hold of the man within the duvet. “Get the fuck- Ow! You just bit me!”

“It was barely a nibble!” came the muffled response.

“Get your ass out here!” Shane shoved a hand into the covers, grabbing the face he felt, hearing Ryan’s irritated curse. “Face me with honor, you coward!”

Ryan rolled out of the covers, breathing heavily. “You’re insane!”

“You bit me!”

Ryan sat back on his knees, still catching his breath, hands on his hips. “I need the bed more than you do. My job is more physically strenuous.”

“Not my fault.” Shane lay back on the bed, hands linked behind his head. “Now get gone. _Andalé_.”

Ryan ran a hand through his hair, pondering his options. “So I’m not allowed sleep in the bed unless I have sex with you.”

Shane shrugged. “Essentially.”

A pause. “Well I _do_ really want to sleep in the bed.”

“Mm. That’s very interesting.” Shane let the smile spread across his face as he felt the other man climb onto him, straddling his waist, his hands resting on his chest. “How much do you want it?”

“So much,” replied Ryan wistfully, leaning forwards, letting his hands brush up from Shane’s chest to cup his face. “I’d do anything.”

“Anything?”

Ryan nodded, giving the side of his face a soft kiss, feeling the hands rest on his hips. “Anything.”

Shane went to roll them, raising an eyebrow as he felt the hands holding his shoulders down. Ryan leaned in, whispering the words, his breath ghosting across Shane’s mouth.

“I get to choose what I do.”

Shane nodded, sliding his fingers under the other man’s t-shirt, feeling the heat of the body underneath. “Absolutely.”

He watched the shorter man lean back, pulling his t-shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. Shane swallowed, letting his hands drift over the man’s body; even in the low light from the hall he was beautiful. Ryan looked down at him, caught a bit off guard at the surprising gentleness that the other man touched him with. He watched the hand trace down his stomach, felt the fingertips just brushing his skin. Ryan slipped his fingers through the other man’s, pinning his hands back to the pillow either side of his head as he leaned down. He could feel Shane’s breaths against his lips, and fuck, they were trembling. Ryan searched the other man’s eyes, what he could see of them in the dark. He heard the man swallow, felt the fingers pressing into the backs of his hands.

“How much do _you_ want this?” he asked quietly.

Shane didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes fixed to the other man’s. “I couldn’t explain even if I tried.”

Well shit. Ryan lowered his gaze, watching the other man’s mouth as he settled closer. He kissed him slowly, deeply, hearing the desperately quiet sigh as he did so. Their lips parted, then met again, harder than before, and Ryan had never truly appreciated the term ‘electrifying’ until that moment. He broke off, keeping their parted mouths close, his hands still holding Shane’s down. He sat back, taking the other man’s hands up, placing them against his body, feeling the fingers press into him, running up his stomach to his chest and back down, exploring him, familiarizing themselves with every piece of him. Shane sat upright, his wide eyes fixed on Ryan’s face, his hands coming to a halt on the man’s waist. Ryan closed his eyes as he felt the lips on his chest, kissing him softly, as if even the lightest touch would leave a bruise. Ryan’s arm slipped around the other man’s neck as he felt a warm kiss against his throat, feeling equally warm hands move up his back, holding him close. His lips parted, inhaling shakily as another kiss was pressed to his shoulder, Shane’s hands slipping down to his lower back, still holding him right against him. Ryan’s arm tightened around the man’s neck, his fist clenching as Shane focused on where his neck met his shoulder, able to hear Ryan’s trembling breaths right in his ear. Ryan closed his eyes, resting his head against Shane’s shaggy hair as he felt the tongue brush over his skin, the kisses still being pushed into his neck, Shane’s heavy breaths accompanying the sensation. Ryan ran his free hand through the man’s hair, the other arm still wrapped around his neck, holding him close, their bodies flush together.

“Shane,” he managed to whisper, eyes fluttering as the kisses slowed. “Lie back.”

Shane did so, his gaze fixed to Ryan’s darkened features. He closed his eyes as Ryan pressed his lips to his again, Shane's hands cupping the other man's face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Then Ryan broke off, his voice low.

"I knew it."

Shane opened his eyes, puzzled. "Huh?"

"You ate my pizza."

 _Fuck_. "What? No!"

"You did! I can taste it!"

"I didn't! It was _my_ leftovers!"

"I can taste the jalapenos!" Ryan sat back with an air of finality. "You didn't get them on yours because you're too white!"

"Yeah whatever fine!" said Shane, sitting upright. "I ate your stupid pizza!" 

"Unbelievable!"

"Not all of it!" Shane waved a hand. "I had, like, two bites!"

Ryan sighed sharply, running his hands down his face. "You don't do that to a guy, Shane! Come on."

"I'll make it up to you," said Shane instantly, his hands still resting on the other man's hips. "Whatever way you want. I'll make up for it tenfold, baby."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah," said Shane quietly, his gaze lowered, watching the other man's mouth as he leaned forwards slightly. "Anything you want. I'll do it."

Ryan smiled, a small one. "Alright. Let me sleep in the bed. Alone."

Shane didn't respond for a moment. Then he let his head fall into the other man's shoulder, letting out a frustrated groan. "You're killing me, Ryan. You really are."

Ryan bit back his smile, feeling the arms wrap tightly around him, pulling him flush against the other man's body. "That's very sad."

" _Please_." The words were muffled against Ryan's neck. "I can't sleep because I keep thinking about your stupid face and stupid body and it's not fair."

"I didn't think it was fair when I called dibs on the bed first and you ignored me."

Shane flopped back onto the bed as Ryan got off him, sighing long and loud. "Well I guess I won't be sleeping for the next fucking week then, thanks."

Ryan shrugged, lingering in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame. "I didn't say anything about not having sex with you."

Shane sat up again, watching the other man's silhouette wander out of sight. He immediately followed, moving down the dim hallway towards Ryan, almost able to feel the smug smile on his face.

"Well that was quick. I-"

Ryan was promptly cut off as Shane, for once, didn't stop to talk. He pushed the shorter man back against the wall, leaning down, pressing his mouth to Ryan's in a hard kiss. He didn't give Ryan a chance to even catch his breath, picking him up and pinning him between the wall and his body, still kissing him hungrily, slipping his tongue into the other man's mouth, hearing the low moan, feeling the hands on the back of his neck, the back of his head, fingers running through his hair. He had his hands under the shorter man's legs, but he quickly realized Ryan didn't need any help in staying upright, doing so without a bother to him. Shane's hands slipped around the other man's waist, holding him in place as they made out until their lips were burning, their heavy breaths the only sound in the apartment, and to them, the only sound in the world. Shane let out a low breath as he felt the teeth close on his bottom lip, pulling. He immediately hooked his fingers behind the waist of the other man's boxers, pulling them down, hearing Ryan's shaky breaths, feeling them against his skin.

"Yeah," breathed Ryan, nodding, his arms still hooked around the other man's shoulders. "Yeah, come on."

Shane looked at his face, at the flushed cheeks, the glittering eyes. He placed a hand against the cool plaster, feeling Ryan's fingers digging into his arm, using it to pull himself more upright against the wall. Shane watched his face as he pushed up into him, hearing the sharp intake of breath, seeing the man's eyes squeeze shut.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, around his own heavy breaths.  "If you-"

"I'm fine." Ryan nodded, his parted lips pressed against the other man's. "I'm fine. Fuck." He inhaled deeply as the taller man started rutting into him, his head resting back against the wall, feeling the unbridled pleasure spread through him. "You- Faster. Harder. Both."

Shane decided to skip on easing into it. He took hold of the other man's hips, pulling them forwards as he drove into him, his own panted breaths not quite as loud as Ryan's, who was already whimpering with each rut. Ryan set his shoulders back against the wall, hands pressed to it for balance as he began to push his own hips forwards in time with the other man's, his legs pressing in either side of Shane's chest. He heard Shane's hand hit the wall as he fell forwards, his other arm now wrapped around Ryan's waist, helping to keep him balanced as he fucked him hard, feeling the slick sweat on the shorter man's body, seeing it glisten. But he could also hear the quiet gasps, the pained edge to them. Shane pulled him forwards against him, carrying him back into the dark bedroom, laying him on the bed. He fumbled to open the bedside locker, taking out a tub.

"Vaseline?" Ryan sighed in exasperation. "For real?"

"It's all I have right now!" hissed Shane, pausing in applying it. "Do you not want-"

"It's fine, just hurry up!"

Ryan bit down on his lip as the other man entered him again, this time with a lot less hesitation. He pushed his head back into the pillow, feeling Shane's mouth working against his neck, pushing under his jaw, making him feel lightheaded. He hooked one arm around Shane's neck, his other hand digging into his back, feeling the hard muscle sliding under his fingers. He swiftly lost himself to the sensation, to the weight of Shane's body on his, to the firmness of his hands, to the heat of his breath against his skin. And that night, Ryan slept in the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, struggling not to use the phrase 'facial recognition got a hit' when doing the camera bit


	13. One Step Forwards, Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things swiftly spiral for Shane.

"Are you sure it's around here?"

"Yeah, definitely!" Steven peered out the window, watching the rundown buildings they passed. "I think."

"It was," said Andrew, squinting down the side streets. "It's close. Just keep an eye out for that statue."

"A bird, right?" said Ryan, trying to hide his sleepiness.

"A phoenix," replied Steven, spreading his arms in an appropriate replication. "Caw."

"Mm. Yeah."

Andrew glanced in the rear view mirror. "You tired, Ry?"

"Hm? Yeah. A bit." _Exhausted_. "A busy, uh, night. You know."

"Those _are_ hickeys are your neck!" Steven rolled his eyes. "You're not even trying to hide them."

"What, I'm gonna wear a scarf in 70°F weather? Hell no." He grinned. "Plus, most of them aren't even on my neck."

"Oh shut up."

"You said you wouldn't," said Andrew, almost reprimanding. "You're gonna be distracted now."

"He's been distracted for the past few months!"

"I know, I know! But God, guys. It was just- I can't even describe it." Ryan sighed wistfully, gazing out the window. "It was just all night. Constant. I honestly thought I'd died and went to heaven."

Andrew threw him a flat look in the rear view mirror. "So no more Ricky, huh?"

"Ricky was out-shined this time, guys. For real." Ryan leaned forwards between the two men, a hand on each of their seats. "We even did it against the wall for a bit. Yeah, I know, right? Super steamy."

"You're making me jealous," said Steven with a fake-pout. 

"I mean, is this good karma?" continued Ryan, almost talking to himself at this point. "Finally, _finally_ , a guy walks into my life who's not horribly flawed in one way or another? I mean, firstly, Shane's not an unstable guy with a penchant for murdering people, which is great. Secondly, he's like, emotionally mature, you know? Like yeah, he's a bit childish every now and then, maybe a bit impulsive, but he's able to like, talk to me about stuff. And then _thirdly_ , he's in a league of his own in bed." A pensive hum. "I just hope he doesn't turn around and say he's a Republican or something."

"He's not a Republican," said Andrew dryly. "You're just reaching."

"But then what is it?" Ryan leaned forwards again. "What's his flaw? He's hiding one. He's got to be."

"Maybe he's not," shrugged Steven, turning the car onto the derelict street. "Maybe he's just a great guy. So don't overthink it."

"Fine, fine. I won't overthink it." Ryan sat back, arms folded across his chest. And he overthought it. "Maybe he's a spy. Oh shit, he's a spy, isn't he."

"No way," laughed Andrew. "You can't fake that kind of cluelessness."

"What is it?" Ryan rubbed his hands down his face, groaning in frustration. "There has to be something. There has to be. He-"

"There it is." Steven pointed at the statue, bright among the dark stone buildings. "C'mon. Let's do this."

"And stop thinking about Shane, Ryan," said Andrew dryly, pulling over. "You'll fuck up."

"Okay. Okay, right." Ryan nodded, sighing heavily. "I won't think about him."

* * *

The Ranch was a sprawling military base. Nothing less. Shane felt entirely out of place amid these blatant drug dealers. He was glad he'd decided to leave his badge behind; he had a feeling that would've earned him a punch or two. So he stayed sitting against the dog kennel, wishing the sun wasn't so oppressively hot. Also, from this angle, he couldn't see the literal gallows that he, Norris, and Horsley were waiting beside.

The nooses swung in the dry breeze. Norris looked up at them, biting on her thumb. She turned her head to look at her boss, seeing the tall figure of Shane lounging in the background.

"You sure he won't change his mind?"

Horsley nodded, unbothered by the gallows in front of them. "He won't. This is beneficial to both of us. A bit unfortunate it couldn't be Bergara, but this is a start."

Norris nodded, feeling just a bit bad. "Right. Cool."

The fence to the old mansion rattled back, a beeping sound accompanying it. Three men came out; two guards, and a familiar face. Shane finally sat up off the dog kennel he'd been perched against, his eyes fixed to the face that stood between the two guards. Goldsworth looked back, the scar still on his cheek, red and angry. The small group finally entered the grounds of the mansion. And even though he knew it was a dick move, Shane couldn't resist.

He immediately moved to Goldsworth, strolling along beside him like they were old friends. “Well, Goldy. How’s it going.”

The shorter man didn’t reply for a moment. “Apart from the fact I was hoping you were dead, I’m doing fine.”

“That’s great! I’m doing fine too. In fact, I’m feeling quite fresh today altogether.” He smiled to himself, hands in his pockets, for once unbothered by the cigarette smoke floating into his face. “A bit exhausted, I’ll admit. But  _fresh_.”

A silence. “Right. Right, I see.”

“You’re a great talker, aren’t you?” Shane shrugged. “Well, you’re a great talker when you’re not spiraling into a mood. Which I suppose you do a lot around me.”

Goldsworth took a deep breath through his nose. “You have a mouth on you too. And you just love flapping it around.”

“Ryan loves me flapping it around too.”

He could almost hear Goldsworth’s teeth gritting. They walked in silence, Shane humming lightly to himself, feeling unashamedly smug. He was almost skipping.

“Tell me something, Madej.” The man’s voice was low, casual. “Have you ever heard of any of Ryan’s other exes?”

Shane glanced down at him. “No. No, I haven’t.”

“He had this one, this guy called Mike, I think it was.” His gaze was distant, pensive, the two of them lingering just a bit behind the rest of the group. “Yeah. Mike. You remind me a bit of him. He was funny. And he loved letting me know how funny he was.”

Shane nodded slowly. “Right.”

“He used to, oh, he used to come into Ryan’s office when I was there, and he just  _loved_ being a… Well, he loved acting like you do.” He sighed almost wistfully, wandering along now, his cigarette forgotten. “And then one day, I really got sick of him. I really,  _really_ did. But I waited. And I waited. And when he and Ryan finally split, well…” He smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t suggest asking Ryan what happened to poor Mike. It still upsets him a bit, thinking that his ex up and left. But I’ll tell you what happened. I’ll tell you what really happened.” He turned to look right up at him, satisfied at the lack of a smile on the other man’s face. “I went to his apartment. And I stabbed him sixteen times in the chest. And I cut his throat. And I burned the body. I can still remember the smell. It’s surprisingly sweet, you know. Then again, maybe who the person is has an effect on how sweet it smells.” A sharp laugh. “I bet yours would smell like straight-up candyfloss.”

Shane didn’t look away, his heart skipping every second beat.

“But you’re lucky,” said Goldsworth quietly, almost bitterly. “You’re a federal agent. I can’t touch you quite as easily. But don’t forget what I just told you.” He leaned forwards, asking the question in a low voice. “Where is Mike now?”

Shane kept his head raised, hoping his breaths didn’t sound as shaky as they felt. “Gone.”

“Gone.” Goldsworth smiled at this, giving a quiet laugh, more of an exhale through his nose than anything else. “Don’t put on airs for me, Madej. He was slaughtered. Him and his yappy little dog. By me.”

Shane looked down his nose at him, feeling a cold sweat breaking out despite the oppressive heat.

“I still remember the fire, the flames, the heat, all of it. I dream about it some nights. But it’s funny, when I dream about it now, it’s not Mike’s body I see.” Goldsworth raised a hand, giving him a few light taps on the chest, thoughtful. “But I wouldn’t burn yours. I’d hang yours up there for everyone to see, and I’d let it rot all summer.”

Shane swallowed, his heart positively hammering in his chest. Goldsworth didn’t speak for a moment, still holding his gaze. 

“If you ever mention Ryan to me again I’ll take your throat out with my bare hands,” he said, giving Shane’s chest one last tap. Then he turned away, continuing on after the others.

Shane didn’t move for a few minutes. And when he finally followed, it was with a lot more hesitance than beforehand. He went up to the porch of the mansion, if it could've even been called a porch. It could've held an extra house, if the house was of normal size. Shane stood outside for a moment, hands on his hips, studying the impressive architecture. He only moved when something poked him in the ribs; a machine gun, with a mean-looking guard holding it.

"Keep going."

Shane nodded, hands raised. "Jeez, relax. I'm going."

He was lead to a board room, all dark shiny wood and large windows. Horsley and Norris already sat on one side, as casual as if they were at a bar. Goldsworth stood on the other side, hands in his pockets. And another familiar face sat at the table, looking at Shane from under his bushy brows.

"Madej," he rumbled, gesturing at the seat beside Horsley. "Sit yerself down, now. Make yerself comfortable. Not often a man of the law wanders on in here, I want to make a good impression."

Shane sat down, still staring at him. It was the man who'd talked to him in Katt's bar; the handlebar mustache and cowboy hat were still in place. Shane decided not to mention their meeting. "Nice house."

"Why thank you sir."

"Now if all of the formalities are done with, I think we should proceed," said Horsley, taking a file from her bag. "Let's start with the land."

* * *

The restaurant was empty. The three men stood at the entrance, a bit unsure of what to do. Steven sniffed the air.

"Doesn't really smell like cooking, right?"

Ryan nodded. "Right. But that doesn't mean the Chef isn't around."

"Well what are we doing? Waiting to be seated?" Andrew moved further into the restaurant, around the tables. "Shitty service, I'll admit."

Steven went up to the bar, slapping the counter. "Hello?"

No response.

"Shane said he saw the Chef take envelopes from under a table," said Ryan, seeing Andrew immediately begin to search. "I'll check the kitchen."

Ryan pushed open the door to the kitchen, revealing no kitchen. Unless a long polished wood table counts as a work surface and multiple maps of Tucson, pens, compasses, and magnifying glasses count as kitchen utensils. He moved to the table, leaning down to get a look at what was being marked. A red X was visible on each map, in the same spot each time. 

“The crime scene,” he muttered, turning one of the maps to face him more directly. “Huh.”

He leaned down, squinting at the miniature question marks dotted around the desert. And that was how he was posed when the back door was pushed open; leaning over the table, a hand on the map, his gaze raised to look at the newcomer. For a moment, the Chef looked simply inconvenienced more than anything else. It was a bit insulting.

“Fucking hell, man.” The Chef gestured vaguely at him. “How many times do I have to kick your ass before I get the message across?”

Ryan looked thoughtful for a moment. “You could, uh, you could just tell me what message you’re trying to get across. Use your words and stuff.”

The Chef laughed, taking his motorbike helmet off. “No. It’s not that type of message.”

Ryan straightened up, looking him up and down as the man got rid of any obstructive items of clothing; his jacket, his black tie, his watch. He left the rings on. This was bad. Ryan wondered if he should just bolt. Half of him wanted to. The other half of him knew that this guy held answers, answers that were most definitely worthy of a risk. So he didn’t move. 

“What’s all this shit?” Ryan nodded at the table. “Looks a bit strange, I’ll admit. And it’s weird to have a restaurant without a kitchen, isn’t it?”

The Chef was already circling the table towards him, but he slowed a few feet away, eyes stuck to Ryan’s. “What are you. You aren’t working for the Treasury.”

Ryan shrugged. “Well you’re not just a chef. So.”

“No, I’m not. But I don’t have to answer your questions, because you’re going to be dead in ten minutes.”

“But if you were so sure I’d be dead in ten minutes, you’d answer my questions.” Ryan raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Hm?”

The Chef didn’t smile. Ryan’s grin faltered. He watched as the Chef took out his phone, seemingly distracted for a second.  _Run now_. Ryan spared a sidelong glance at the door. _You’ll probably get your ass handed to you. Just go_.

The sound of the phone on the wall ringing made him turn his head to look at it, an automatic response that he immediately mentally cursed his parents for drilling into him. The punch struck him clean across the face, making him stumble backwards, blinking rapidly to try and stop his vision from swimming. He raised his arms to block the next one, moving backwards, ducking under another swipe. _Focus, Ryan. C'mon_. He let out a quiet breath, waiting for the Chef to try and hit him again. And he did. And Ryan caught the arm, pulling him forwards into a punch to the face, kicking him in the back of the knee straight after, hard enough to take the man's legs out from under him. The Chef fell flat on his back with a curse, but he placed a foot again Ryan's chest before the man could pin him down, shoving him away with enough force to send him falling into the chairs with enough of a racket for everyone else in the building to hear. Ryan grabbed hold of the table to get back upright, seeing the Chef simply flip to his feet with little to no effort.

"Fuck, that was cool," breathed Ryan, raising his hands again. 

He ducked under the punch that was thrown at him, but this time the Chef was ready, driving his knee up into the man's face. Ryan stumbled backwards, fighting the urge to clutch his bleeding nose as he blocked the roundhouse kick that would've knocked him out instantly. The phone was still ringing, along with the Chef's, which was doing the ringing. Ryan felt more than physically hurt now. He'd fallen for a trick that would've worked on a five year old. But he didn't mind. He waited for the Chef to come closer, lowering his fists. 

"You're giving up?" The Chef smiled. "Good, you're-"

Andrew smashed the plate right over the man's head. The Chef crumpled to the ground like a deflating tube man. Steven watched from the door, peeking through it. Andrew pointed at the Chef.

"That the guy?"

Ryan nodded, giving his nose a wipe with the back of his hand. "That's the guy."

"Right. Let's get him out of here." Andrew flipped him onto his front, using the man's discarded tie to bind his hands. "What's all that shit?"

Ryan looked at the table again, head tilted as he moved back to the maps. "I don't know, but I feel like we should take it."

They gathered it up hurriedly, whatever they could find that looked remotely relevant. Ryan followed them out the doors, carrying the majority of their findings, seeing as Steven and Andrew were carrying a fully-grown man between them.

"You think Shane and them are done yet?"

"Why?" grinned Steven. "Feeling a bit raunchy, hm?"

"Well, fuck both of you." Ryan rolled his eyes. "I'd say they're done. It's been, what, two hours?"

* * *

 

The conversation was chugging on ahead without him. Shane realized right from the beginning that he wasn't exactly involved in what was happening; there were too many code words, coded phrases, names and letters and numbers. So he just sat back, and drank the coffee that had been brought to him. He glanced at Goldsworth again; yeah, he was still smiling. A smug, slimy smile that had Shane's shoulders tense. Shane spared a look over his shoulder at the guards behind him, keeping his gaze lowered; they were still there, one either side of him. He put his coffee down, letting out a quiet breath. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. He could feel it in his gut.

“Then let us come to an agreement,” said Horsley calmly, legs crossed. “I provide the money for the land, you give me sixty percent of the profits you gain from it.”

Banjo shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “No can do.”

“Fifty-five percent.”

“You ain’t gettin’ more than forty, little lady.”

“You can call me Ms Horsley,” she replied coolly. “And since I’m buying the land for you, I believe I’m owed more than fifty percent. I won’t settle for anything less than fifty-five.”

A slow shrug. “I can buy it myself.”

Horsley smiled witheringly. “Don’t faff me around here, Banjo. I bring the legitimacy you need. You buy this land and the Feds will be sniffing around for the rest of your life. But if I buy this land…” She smiled. “They won’t.”

Banjo continued chewing on the tobacco, watching the three of them across the table. “But y’all need me for the Cord.”

“We do.” Horsley waved a vague hand. “I’m here to strike a deal, not to start a war. I believe what I’ve suggested is perfectly reasonable.”

Banjo nodded, still slouched in the chair. “I want some sort of guarantee.”

“You have my word.”

“Not good ‘nuff.” He looked pensive for a moment. Then he nodded at Shane. “I want him.”

“Done.”

Shane straightened up in his chair, eyes wide. “Wait, what?”

“Just until I buy the land,” said Horsley casually, already getting to her feet, picking up her handbag. “You’ll be fine.”

“What?! No, no, I don’t consent to this.” Shane went to stand up, deciding to stay sitting as the multiple guns were drawn on him. “Fran. Fran, come on. This is bullshit.”

She looked a bit unsettled, zipping up her jacket. “Sorry, man. I can't do anything.”

“But- No, I- You can’t just-” Shane got to his feet despite the guns, staring pleadingly at the two women as they headed for the door. “Come on! This isn’t fair! I’m a goddamn federal agent!”

“Yer valuable.” Banjo came around the table to join him, dusting him off like he was a prize pony. “Mm. Nothin’ like havin’ a man of the law at yer beck and call. Gives the boys someone to vent their frustrations at.”

“I won’t be at your beck and call,” replied Shane bitterly. “And the fuck do you mean ‘vent their frustrations’?”

“Public cell.” Banjo grinned, still chewing. “With the dogs.”

Shane didn’t reply. He felt a hand grab his arm, yanking him away and out the door, all the way out the building. The sun beat down like a hot frying pan to the head, but he wasn’t sure if that was what was making him feel faint, or if it was something else. He could hear the barking, the yapping as he was dragged across the small courtyard, out the fence that surrounded the manor, and right to the dogs. He stumbled slightly as he was shoved into an empty cage, turning to glare at the man. Then the bars rattled shut, and he was trapped. For a moment, he stood in stunned silence, arms by his sides. He eventually took in his surroundings; three walls were bars, one was brick. Thankfully, there was a roof covering. The cage to his left held a grey greyhound, which was watching him with its head tilted curiously. To the right was a black greyhound, already sticking its long snout through the bars for a sniff. Shane stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“Well this is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.”

He crouched down beside the bars, holding one for balance as he pet the black greyhound's snout. Its tail wagged eagerly. Then it turned away, returning ten seconds later with a tennis ball. Shane took it, sighing wearily. Might as well pass the time somehow. So he chucked it through the bars, the dog running to fetch it, hurrying back, dropping it again. 

Shane nodded. "That was tight."

The dog licked its lips, still wagging its tail excitedly. Shane tossed the ball again. He could see the other dogs beginning to prick their ears up, watching the ball bounce back and forth. Shane sat down on the sandy ground, legs crossed. How long did it take to buy land? He was pretty sure it wouldn't be too long. Maybe an hour or so? There were worse places to be trapped, he supposed. He liked dogs, anyway. 

"Hey."

Shane turned his head, seeing one of the guards standing with a bottle of water. He dropped it through the bars.

"That's for you."

Shane didn't move. "Thanks. I guess."

The guard moved on, revealing an ominous sight indeed. From here, Shane could see the gallows, the nooses swaying lightly in the breeze. He swallowed, feeling the dog still nuzzling his hand, attempting to put the tennis ball into it. Shane retracted his hand, suddenly not feeling quite as flippant about his situation as he had been. _Just a few hours_ , he told himself. _Just one or two. Maybe three_. He wouldn't be left there for days. Right? He got to his feet, crossing to the bars, holding them loosely. No one else was around. Just him, the dogs, the sand, and the gallows. He pressed his lips together, suddenly quite concerned indeed.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing. "Can I switch cages? Not mad on the view here!"

No response. Which he got used to very quickly indeed.


	14. Break-in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission Objective: save Shane from himself.

It was late. It was way too late. Ryan sat at the table in the apartment, head in his hand, his other hand tapping out an agitated rhythm beside where his phone lay silent. He unlocked it again, just in case a message had come in despite the fact he hadn't looked away in ten minutes. Nothing. Nothing from Shane. 

"Fuck." He breathed the word, getting to his feet, pacing back and forth. "Fuck. Where is he."

It was half eleven at night, and Shane still wasn't home. He hadn't heard anything from Horsley or Norris. Not a peep from any of them. Ryan ran his hands down his face, letting them rest over his mouth as he immediately let his mind wander to what activities probably occurred in that compound. It was Banjo's headquarters, no doubt. And multiple things happen in a drug lord's headquarters; deal-making, planning, punishment. Torture. Hands lopped off, firing squads, all of it. Especially now, if Ricky was backing him, if the CIA were backing him. But why the hell would the CIA back this drug dealer out of all the others? It wasn't a struggle for Ryan to find an answer; it was a struggle for him to even begin to think about how to narrow down all the possible answers. 

He made it to the door before the third knock even finished echoing, yanking it open with a wave of relief. "Shane, you- Oh. Hi."

Norris didn't look at him. She stood with her arms folded, lips pressed together. "Can I, uh, can I talk to you? About something?"

Ryan looked her up and down, a quick scan for anything that might spell out danger. "Sure. I guess."

She stepped in. He leaned out into the hallway, looking up and down for any company. Which there should've been. If Norris was back, Shane should be back.

"Ryan, I-"

"Where's Shane?"

She didn't try to hide the guilty look on her face, even when Ryan finally turned to look at her. "That's what I need to talk to you about, man."

Ryan's heart fell through the floor. "No. No, please, don't tell me he's de-"

"No! No, he's not. He's not dead." She heard his heavy sigh, saw his eyes fluttering closed with relief. "But he's in the Ranch."

"What? Why?!"

"I- Oh shit. Okay. Hold on." She closed her eyes, readying herself. "Okay. I've never done this before. I've never told someone something that Holly said not to tell. But I feel like I should."

Ryan looked at her. He nodded. "Then tell me it. Don't give me these mini-cliffhangers, or I think I might literally pass out."

She held her motorbike helmet in her gloved hands, tapping it distractedly. "...I think Holly and Banjo are up to something. Like, together."

"What?" Ryan finally shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. "Why do you think that?"

"Look, I've seen Holly bargaining like, a lot. A hell of a lot." She shrugged, waving a hand vaguely, holding her helmet against her hip with the other. "And she wasn't bargaining with Banjo. She was reading a pre-prepared script, man. From beginning to end. And she was like, weirdly annoyed that it was Shane coming with us and not you. But I know that she knew Shane was going to be taken as a hostage from the start. But she was planning on that hostage being you, Ryan."

Ryan looked at her, a serious stare. "Why are you telling me this."

"Because I like you, Ryan. I do. And I like Shane too." She shrugged, almost helplessly. "I know I do Holly's dirty deeds for her all the time, but I'd consider you a bit of a friend, and I don't want you to, well, get hurt. Or die, either. That would also be bad."

Ryan straightened up off the door. "Did she say when she's going to get Shane back?"

Norris shook her head, her eyes a bit wide. "No. That's the thing, man. I don't think she's intending on Shane coming back."

Ryan went ice cold, his heart freezing over. "Where did they put him? In the Ranch?"

"I don't know where. We left before we saw." She chewed on her thumbnail as she spoke. "And like, Goldsworth was there. That total a-hole. I told you he was in with Banjo."

"Yeah, but now it turns out that you might be in with Banjo too," said Ryan dryly, hands on his hips. "Or your boss is, anyway."

"Yeah. I know." She nodded at the other person in the room. "What's the story with him? And how the hell did you get him in here?"

Ryan glanced at the Chef, who was entirely wrapped up, bound to the chair, a blindfold and earmuffs and a gag on. "Oh, Andrew smashed a plate over his head. So we're just waiting for him to wake up."

"Oh. Cool."

"But Shane." Ryan grabbed a hoodie from the back of the chair beside him, pulling it on. "I need to get him. I swear to God, if he dies I'll never-"

"I'll come with you," she said firmly.

"No. You'll mind him."

Norris glanced at the Chef, who was still slumped in the chair, chin on his chest. "Oh. Okay. You're sure he won't bust out of that?"

"Pretty sure." He nodded at her helmet. "Can I use your bike?"

She pulled a face. "I suppose. But you can't use this helmet. It's customized with satin on the inside so it doesn't fuck up my hair. I know, it's super cash money of me."

Ryan closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "Right. I'll just take my car then. And if I'm not back in three hours, check up on me, yeah?"

"Cool." She remained where she was as Ryan promptly left. "Cool cool cool." She put her helmet down on the table, taking the seat across from the unconscious Chef. "Man, you need lip balm like, real bad. Hold on."

She took her own out, leaning over to messily apply it to the Chef. The man suddenly snorted, jerking in his chair, making Norris leap away with a shriek. But he remained asleep, and she dissolved into nervous giggles, hopping slightly on the spot. Then it was silent again. She sighed long and loud, plonking herself back down on the chair, taking out her phone. She had a few hours to wait now. Might as well get some company.

* * *

Shane didn’t look up at the sound of footsteps. He continued chucking the tennis ball against the one wall he had, the bars digging into his back. Not that he could feel them anymore. He continued throwing the ball, catching it, throwing it again, even as the footsteps came to a halt. He wasn’t interested in who it was. He had to keep bouncing the ball, it was the only way he could even vaguely keep track of time. A bounce for each second. 

“Oh, Madej. What terrible conditions.”

Shane caught the ball in his hand, holding it. He didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze lowered, jaw set, but he could feel it in his chest; the anger, the impatience, the instability beginning to settle in. He let out a quiet, shaky breath. 

“I hope they’re feeding you enough,” said Goldsworth distractedly, too busy reveling in the sight of the other man behind the bars to try and make it sound anyway sincere. “You’re a big guy. I sure do hope you don’t waste away in there.”

Shane still didn’t respond. He threw the ball again, it bounced off the wall, then it bounced off the ground. He caught it. 

“You know, I actually had to fight to get you this accommodation.” Goldsworth’s voice was unashamedly smug. “Thought a nice view of the gallows would put your life in perspective, mm?”

Shane rested his head back against the bars, still refusing to look at him. When he spoke, his voice was slightly croaky from lack of water. “I know you did this.”

“Good. I'm glad you know I did this." The smirk was audible. "Banjo was going to ask for a hostage anyway, but I personally am very glad he got you and not Ryan.”

Shane’s sharp exhale was audible even from where Goldsworth was. “You’re really that bitter, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“A lot.” Shane pushed himself to his feet, a bit stiffly. He placed his hands on his lower back, stretching. He tilted his head from side to side, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he finally looked at Goldsworth, gritting his teeth at the sly smile. “You’re a real prick. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah, but it sounds sweeter coming from your mouth than any of the others.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Shane took hold of the horizontal bar above his head, staring through the vertical ones at the shorter man’s face. “I’m not gonna die in here. So you can stop smiling.”

“I just love seeing you like this. You look like shit.”

Shane looked away, swallowing his anger. “You know, it’s times like this when I see exactly why Ryan was so eager to leave your bitch ass for me.”

Goldsworth didn’t respond for a moment. “Careful, Madej.”

“And I barely had to do anything! You did all the work simply by being a total cunt.”

"You're lucky these bars are here."

"Why? I'm sure you have the authority to come on in here and smack me around." Shane smiled at the flash in the other man's eyes. "C'mon. I'm really starved for human contact in here. I'll take anything at this point."

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm not tempting you. I'm telling you to come in here, and show me exactly why I should be so scared of you." Shane tilted his head, openly condescending. "I mean, you've talked the talk. So now it's time to walk the walk, right?"

"You're right. You're definitely right."

"And I have such a punchable face." Shane spread his arms. "And really, there's just _so much_ of me to hit! You can really just have a ball, you know? Just go crazy!"

A silence. "Not yet."

Shane stuck his tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. "Boo. Get lost then."

"I love how you're acting so brave, but we both know I'd put you through the floor."

"Oh, I do know that." Shane's eyes flickered up and down the other man's face. "But I'd sell my left kidney to be given the chance to land even just one solid punch square in your face."

Goldsworth spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re upset. I understand that. I’ll come back when you’ve calmed down.”

Shane shook his head, his small smile completely gone. “I don’t want to see you again.” 

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind.” Goldsworth gave the bars a light tap, his gaze drifting over them. “I’ve known some guys to go a bit loopy out here. Nothing but the dogs to talk to. And who knows how long you’ll be here, right?”

Shane didn’t reply. His unblinking stare did enough talking, blatantly murderous. 

“But anyway, I guess I should go.” Goldsworth smiled sweetly. “I’m sure Ryan needs company now more than ever, right?”

He stepped back just as Shane’s arm shot through the bars, making them rattle as his shoulder hit off them, fingertips brushing the shorter man’s shirt. Shane didn’t step back, one hand gripping the bar beside his head, the other still hanging through the bars, clenched into a fist as he glared at Goldsworth, his eyes glittering. The shorter man smiled back.

“Well, Madej. You have a bit of a temper after all, don’t you?”

Shane didn’t look away, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. “Fuck you.”

“Tell me, does Ryan still-”

“Fuck off!” shouted Shane over the other man, his furious voice echoing around the compound. The surrounding dogs lifted their heads, letting out low  _boofs_. “Fuck off you little prick!”

Goldsworth didn’t move, still smiling that self-satisfied smile. “Sleep tight, Madej.”

He wandered off down the cages, hearing the bars rattle as Shane pushed off them with a fierce curse. He spared a glance over his shoulder just to get a last look, accidentally stumbling into one of the other cages. The dog inside snarled at him, snapping its teeth. He gave it a kick before continuing on, lighting up a cigarette. That was the first time in a long time he'd managed to keep his cool, and it was simply because he knew exactly what was in store for Shane Madej.

* * *

"So you're not even really a chef?"

"I- No, I am a chef. But I'm also a hitman."

Jazzmyne shared a puzzled look with the three other women. "But like, how do you juggle that?"

"Yeah? Like what if you're due to kill someone at ten but you've also been given the six til close shift?" said Kelsey, still perched on the table. 

"I prioritize."

Sara laughed. "Oh my God. Okay, so have you ever missed killing someone in order to cook food?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He glanced around again, a futile attempt, seeing as the blindfold still covered his eyes. "Where am I? Who are you people?"

"Wait wait wait," continued Norris, frowning as she sat on the table, legs swinging. "So if you're also working part-time while being a full-time hitman, how do you get in contact with, well, your contacts?"

He turned his head to face her, despite not being able to see her. "There's a library close to the restaurant in Washington, and they’ll leave some Vietnamese books somewhere where it doesn’t make sense, and in one of them will be whose sending the order, and then in the other one will be a little piece of paper with what they want me to do. Only this time there was a whole lot of confusion because those two idiots got there first."

Sara didn't have to guess. "Ryan and Shane?"

"The baby-face one and the one that looks like a piece of string."

"Yeah, that's Ryan and Shane." 

"Yeah, well, they've been a pain in my ass for the past few months. Especially Ryan." The Chef sighed heavily, still trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving. "Anyway, turns out I was meant to kill this woman called, uh, called Ruth, I think? But it was too late by the time I found out. She'd gone, and her stupid kids too."

Norris raised a hand, not that he could see. "My fault. I took the kids. I was told to."

"Great, well, thanks. Not." He gave a little wiggle. "Look, can you not just let me go? I don't kill for fun. I have shit to do."

"Oh, you have a dinner to prepare?" grinned Kelsey, checking the fridge. "Damn, do Ryan and Shane not grocery shop at all?"

Norris checked her phone, pulling a face. "Right, Ryan's been gone an hour and fifteen minutes. Has he contacted any of you?"

"Nope. I've got nada." Jazzmyne glanced at her. "You gonna go?"

"Yeah. Soon." She tapped the top of her helmet, which was still resting on her lap. She almost treated it like a lucky charm, or a magic lamp; a few taps and a genie would pop out, and show her the way. "Are you guys okay to mind this dude?"

Sara shrugged. "Yeah, seems so."

Norris hesitated for a moment before popping the earmuffs back on the Chef. "Okay. Just- Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Hey, we're Secret Service," said Jazzmyne indignantly, turning to glower at her over the couch. "We're super professional."

She paused for a moment, looking them over. "Oh God. I'm gonna regret this."

The silence lingered for a moment after the door shut. The Chef turned his head from side to side, his eyebrows raised.

"Hello?" He raised his voice. "Hello?!"

* * *

The room was square, just cement and concrete, gray but for the light strips on the top of each wall. In the middle of the room stood Banjo, Ricky, and a metal bucket of water. Shane pushed backwards reflexively, immediately being shoved forwards into the small room, all the way to the bucket. Someone kicked the back of his leg, making him drop to one knee, the bucket of water right in front of him. It was filled right to the top, and in the lighting, the liquid looked as black as oil. He tilted his head back, looking down his nose at the bucket. Then he let his gaze flicker up to the two men, his fists clenching behind his back. He knew the second the cage door had been opened that he was in for a rough night, but maybe not this rough. He let out the breath he'd been holding.

“Well, sir.” Banjo lit up his cigar, the smoke floating into the cold air. “I heard you been giving my boys some cheek.”

Shane swallowed. “I apologize profusely.”

“Especially my friend Ricky here.”

Shane rolled his eyes, letting them land on the man in question. “You snitched. God, you just get worse.”

“Oh, I knew this was going to happen,” replied Goldsworth, moving around the bucket to stand beside Shane. “It was the only thing that stopped me from reaching through those bars and putting my thumbs through your eyes.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Graphic, but I get it.”

“Now.” Banjo crouched down in front of the bucket, his cigar hanging out from under his thick mustache. “What does the FBI want with my land?”

This caught him off guard. Shane blinked a few times, frowning. “What? We don't want your land.”

“That ain’t the right answer.”

First, Shane felt the grip on his hair, painfully tight. Then he felt the icy water, so cold it hurt. He immediately went to rear backwards, but Goldsworth kept his head under the water, fingers tangled in his hair. Shane struggled fiercely, the zip-ties digging into his wrists as he pulled at them, the water splashing up out of the bucket as he tried desperately to shake Goldsworth’s hand off. All he could feel was the water, all he could hear was the dull roar that came with being submerged in it. His lungs were burning already, he was entirely focused on not reflexively drawing breath. But fuck, _fuck_ , he had to, he had to breathe, his lungs were going to burst. 

Ricky finally pulled him out of the water, holding him in place by his hair. Shane coughed and spluttered for what felt like ten minutes straight, eyes squeezed shut, the water still dripping off his face, speckling his light blue shirt with dark spots. He only opened his eyes once his breathing was relatively normal again. He pulled his head out of Ricky's grip, giving him a murderous glare as he panted for breath. 

"Now let's try that again." Banjo puffed on his cigar. "What does the FBI want with my land?"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Shane spat out some more water, sitting back on his knees. "I was just sent by them to help the Treasury, you know, to do my job and shit. I wasn't made aware of any ulterior motives. Sorry for wasting your time."

"I think yer lyin' to me."

"Wait wait wait. Is that why you landed in on me in that bar? You think I'm some sort of spy or some shit?" Shane laughed, despite the imminent bucket-shaped threat before him. "Man, I'll tell you, you've got the wrong guy. But I'm very much flattered that you think I'm cool enough to be a spy."

Banjo didn't reply, his bushy brows knitted. Then he just looked at Goldsworth, and nodded. Shane's face was reintroduced to the water, for a bit longer this time. When he was eventually pulled back out, Ricky had to essentially hold him upright by the back of his collar. They waited for a moment for Shane to catch his breath, the water dripping from his hair, the end of his nose, his beard, the collar and shoulders of his shirt now entirely dark. 

"Fucking hell," he panted, giving his head a shake, the water flying off him like he was a dog. "Fuck."

"What does the FBI-"

"I don't know!" interrupted Shane, beginning to get a bit pissed off now. "I'm entirely fucking unaware of whatever the hell you think is going on!"

Banjo shook his head. "I think yer lyin'. What do you think, Ricky?"

"Hm. I also think he's lying, Banjo."

"Dunk 'em."

Shane ducked sideways, his shoulder hitting off the edge of the bucket, toppling it. He landed face down in the spilled water with a curse, feeling it soaking through the front of his shirt. He awkwardly managed to push himself back onto his knees, straightening up. He saw Banjo watching him, openly disapproving. Then he saw the kick coming at him, Goldsworth throwing it like he was taking a match-changing penalty, hitting him right in the chest. Shane landed flat on his back, and really, it would've been easier to breathe if he'd been held underwater. For a moment he made no sound at all, forcing himself onto his side, pretty certain that he'd met his end; it felt like he was never going to be able to breathe again. Then he sucked in as much air as he could in a pained gasp, rolling onto his back again, his head pushed back against the floor.

"Fuck me. _Fuck_." The words were strained, forced out between coughs. "Jesus Christ. Fuck you. That was just unnecess-"

Goldsworth grabbed him by his wet shirt collar, pulling him halfway off the floor. "Do you ever just stop talking? Just shut up for a minute."

Shane smiled dryly. "How about you untie my hands, and we'll see how easy it is to bash me around."

"I've done it before."

"And I said it to you earlier, Goldy. I just need one punch, one split second where my fist connects with your face, and I'll die a happy man."

"Oh no you won't. I'll make sure of it." He looked down his nose at him, Shane's collar still bunched up in his fists. "You'll die screaming."

The door suddenly slammed open, a guard skidding in. "Boss, there's an issue. On the west."

Banjo frowned at him, taking his cigar from his mouth. He moved towards the door. "You take care of him, Ricky. I'll be back soon 'nuff."

The door swung shut. Shane smiled at Goldsworth, who didn't return it.

"Well, I'd say that's my lift." Shane shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring how Ricky's grip tightened on his shirt. "I'd say Ryan's there too, because I was just thinking about it, about how he'd probably rather risk his life to get this dick back than to go back to your aggressively mediocre-" The punch hit him square in the face, his head snapping back. He cursed loudly, feeling the warm blood already dripping from his nose. "Well _fuck_ you anyway, asshole!" He sniffed, giving his head a little shake to get his vision to stop swimming. "God you _suck!"_

Goldsworth dropped him, moving to the door, peering out into the hallway. It was silent. And behind him, Shane hurriedly maneuvered his bound arms down and under his legs, involuntarily rolling a bit as he did so. He spared a quick glance at Goldsworth before bringing his wrists down towards his stomach, pushing his hips off the ground. It didn't work, just made his wrists hurt. He muttered a curse, throwing another quick glance at Goldsworth before pushing himself to his knees, tightening the zip-tie with his teeth, and then trying again. The plastic broke under the sudden pressure. He shook his hands out, stifling his delight. Then he was on his feet, and running at Goldsworth as fast as he could. The shorter man spun at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, eyes widening in alarm.

"Well fuck me-"

Shane rammed into him shoulder-first, hard enough to drive him right across the dimly-lit corridor and against the wall. Goldsworth let out a winded curse, his hand grabbing hold of the taller man's jaw, shoving him away but holding onto him. Shane grabbed hold of the wrist, yanking the hand away, unaware of the shorter man's other hand until it struck him right in the side, twice, three times. Shane shoved him away, panting for breath as he stumbled backwards, clutching his side, eyes widening as the shorter man ran right at him. And if there was a way to defend oneself from a drop-kick, Shane had never had the chance to learn it. One moment he was standing, the next he was on his back, breathless for the millionth time that day. He tried to roll onto his front, feeling Goldsworth take a tight hold of his wrist, yanking his arm back, placing a leg over it.

"Hey, what are you- AAAAAH!" Shane fell onto his side as the other man released him, clutching his shoulder. "FUCK!"

* * *

Ryan's head snapped up, his hand pulling his hood down as the furious curse echoed around the corridors. Half of him wanted Shane to do it again; at least it provided some way of tracking him. The other half of him would've paid good money to never, ever hear such a pained sound come from Shane's mouth again. He raised his gun, following the sounds of a scuffle. The place was entirely empty; there was some sort of event occurring on the west side, some breach in the defense. They hadn't detected Ryan, but they'd detected someone. He decided to ignore it for now, prioritizing Shane. 

"Get off me!" It was Shane again, closer, sounding downright enraged. "If you're gonna kill me, just fucking do it, you coward!"

Ryan skidded around the corner, racing down the dark corridor towards the two figures. It was definitely Shane on the ground; not many people had legs quite so long. And on top of him was Ricky, who was shrugging his jacket off, rolling up his sleeves as he readied himself for a flood of satisfaction on his part. Ryan caught him by the back of his shirt before he could begin, however, dragging him off Shane and driving him back against the wall. And he saw something he'd never seen in Ricky's eyes before; fear. Wide-eyed, eyebrows-raised fear. Ryan only glimpsed it for a second, however, before he headbutted the man right on the bridge of his nose. Ricky barely got a curse out, the punch that landed clean across his face knocking him out instantly. Ryan let him crumple to the floor, stepping back as he shook his hand out. He dropped to his knees beside Shane, cupping his face, looking him over.

"Are you okay?" He glanced up and down the corridor; still clear. "Shane? Shane, are you-"

"He broke my fucking arm or some shit," groaned Shane, eyes still squeezed shut. "He- Ow! Ow?"

"It's not broken," said Ryan, helping the man sit upright. "It's just dislocated. I can fix it now, or I can fix it later."

Shane stared at him, face unreadable. "Now. Just do it now."

"Lie down. Lie on your back." Ryan took hold of his wrist, straightening his arm out, seeing the man's jaw clenching at the pain. "It'll hurt a lot. And then it'll hurt a little. Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Patch me up, Bergara."

"Stay still, stay really still. And be quiet."

And Shane managed to. He let out a relieved sigh as he quite literally felt the bone slot back into place. Then he laughed, a slightly breathless sound.

"Holy shit. That was better than an orgasm."

Ryan helped him upright, taking his own hoodie off and quickly making up a sling for the taller man. "Don't go waving it around yet, alright? It won't relocate that easy."

Shane nodded, smiling at him. "Ryan. Ryan, I am so fucking glad to see you."

Ryan stared at him. Then he pulled him into a tight hug, making sure to avoid agitating his shoulder. He closed his eyes at the feeling of Shane's breaths against his neck, the taller man's beard scratching him as he was pulled in closer, Shane burying his face in the shorter man's shoulder. Ryan leaned back, looking up at him with wide eyes. Then he kissed him, a desperately hard one, Shane kissing him back just as fiercely. Ryan broke off, keeping close, a hand around the back of the taller man's neck, the other resting on his chest. 

"We need to get out of here," he said, relaxing back off his tip-toes. "And when we do, you are never, _ever_ , doing anything like this alone again."

Shane opened his mouth to reply. Then he closed it, inclining his head. "I was going to passionately object, but I actually think I agree with you."

Ryan took his hand, leading the way. "Let's just go."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/8_xvWdY6Gr4  
> this is ending Mood for ryan and shane in this
> 
> and also, been listening 2 this to get hyped for the next chapter, gna be a lot of action  
> https://youtu.be/ZGmYcZB_oAI


	15. Liabilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the v late update. i have exams approaching at a threatening speed

He skidded around the corner, his hair ruffled from the pace he was going at, the case held tight in his arms like it was a pile of books and he was a student late to class. Except students late to class don't tend to be violently murdered if they are, unfortunately, late. He paused for a moment, cursing the sound of his own heavy breaths as he listened for signs of pursuit. Nothing close by. No sign of Ryan. No sign of anyone. He wasn't even too sure where he was in this giant hellhole. For once, he was thankful for the sand as it softened the sound of his footsteps. He peered around the side of the building, and hey, look at that; the dog kennels he'd been locked up in. And beside them, Banjo's looming manse. He swallowed hard, deciding to stick to the shadows for now, and damn, he really wished he didn't have this case. But he'd have to move soon. He couldn't just wait around, hoping that Ryan would sweep in and rescue him. There was one Ryan. There was also one Goldsworth. And there was countless guards. And he was alone.

His thoughts ground to a stop as he squinted at the dog kennels; there was something not a dog in there. He could see her, a familiar figure, wandering back and forth behind the bars. Shane glanced back and forth, head poking out into the light. Then, still with the case held close, he crossed the sand towards her. The dogs that used to be his neighbors perked up at the sight of the Tall Friendly Man.

"Katt?"

She didn't respond for a moment. Then her eyes widened. "Shane?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed, placing the case on the ground as he went to the lock. It was, well, locked. But also a little old and rusty. "Not in Tucson. I mean in _here_."

She shrugged helplessly. "That Gold guy again. He just fucking kidnapped me, dude. And the Chef wasn't around to scare him off, so I couldn't even do shit."

He picked the metal case back up, raising it. "This is gonna be loud. It's gonna attract attention. You have to follow me. Got it?"

She nodded, stepping back. "I did it last time, right?"

He smiled dryly. "Right."

Then he brought the case down as hard as he could on the lock, his grunt inaudible over the resounding bang. The dogs yapped in irritation. He did it again, quickly, the lock snapping under the pressure. He scrambled to pull it open, letting Katt out, and he was actually a bit surprised at the fact that she hugged him. He reflexively hugged her back, just a quick one. Right now, there were more important things to do. 

"Shane!"

The furious voice made him straighten up, Katt whipping around to face it. Goldsworth looked terrifyingly mad, enraged, his hands shaking as he crossed the sand. Shane backed away down the cages, keeping Katt behind him, and he was struck with a most horrifying bout of déjà vu. The case swung from his hand as he continued pushing Katt backwards. The dogs were snarling. They did not like the Short Angry Man. Shane dropped the case as Goldsworth took the gun from his belt. He didn't want to die here. He didn't want to die at all, really. He had his hands behind his back, on Katt's arms, pushing at her to run in a manner he really hoped was subtle. 

"You know, Madej, I don't even want to take your eyes from your head with a rusty spoon anymore," said Goldsworth, sniffing, a wet sound due to the blood still bubbling from his nostrils. "I just want to see you fucking dead."

Shane's breaths were erratic, shaky, a hand brushing the dog cages. He didn't care about the case now, lying in the middle of the sand. He just wanted to be anywhere else. Anywhere. The dogs were still barking, drawing unwanted attention. Or maybe not _that_ unwanted.

"Ricky." Ryan came out between the two buildings Shane had emerged from only minutes beforehand. "Ricky, put the gun-"

"You shut the fuck up," snarled Goldsworth, raising the gun to aim it right at him. "Shut your fucking mouth. You're after him."

"Put the gun down," said Ryan, his voice just a bit shaky as he raised a hand towards him. "Let's just-"

"Don't take another fucking step, Ryan. I mean it." Goldsworth swapped targets without even looking, the sharp inhale making it known that his aim was perfect. "Or I'll put this right through his stupid face."

Ryan slowed to a halt, straightening up, his eyes fixed on Ricky's. "I know you're mad. I know. But this isn't-"

"You are both so fucking stupid, you know that?" Ricky shook his head. "You think we're all pals here? You seriously think that you're gonna stop what's happening from happening?" He laughed, a forced sound. "Tinsley's got you both looking like goddamn idiots. Especially you, Ryan. But you were always just a bit too quick to trust, weren't you?"

Shane quietly, quietly drew back the bar on the dog cage beside him, hearing the black greyhound barking inside. It was a slow process; staring down the barrel of a gun tends to make a person choose their actions just a bit more carefully than usual. He could hear Katt's trembling breaths behind him. They were getting quieter. He turned his head just a tad, seeing her backing away, slowly sliding back the next bar of the cage that housed a German Shepherd. Better. Better choice. Shane just hoped the dogs remembered him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ryan seemed genuinely puzzled, staring at Goldsworth. "What does Tinsley have to do with this?"

"Jesus Christ, Ryan. You are so fucking naive sometimes it's staggering." Goldsworth raised an eyebrow. "Remember your Creator?"

Ryan didn't reply for a long moment. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." Ricky flinched as the tennis ball hit the back of his head, whipping around to glare at the thrower. "Alright, that's-"

The dog hit him almost straight after, sinking its teeth into his arm. He yelled out, the gun firing a round, making the rest of the dogs panic, barking, snapping. Shane pulled open the cages as he ran, Katt going the other way, the dogs spilling out, going right for Goldsworth, who'd calmed down enough to realize that this was a situation he should most definitely run from. So he ran, abandoning his vengeance, the dogs bounding after him as they snapped and snarled. He was not fond of dogs, and he had made his views clear to the dogs in question multiple times. It was now back to bite him in the ass quite literally. Shane grabbed hold of the still-baffled Ryan, dragging him away from the manse and the cages, Katt beside him, and the case back in his hand. 

"Where did you go?" hissed Shane, really wishing Ryan would snap out of it. "Stop thinking for now, man! Just do!"

Ryan blinked up at him. Then he nodded, frowning. "You're right. You're right. Uh, which way did Andrew and Steven go?"

"Fuck them, man! They almost screwed us up!"

The 'breach' on the west had, indeed, been Andrew and Steven, who may or may not have left the case with Ecclesiastes in their shared accommodation when going to investigate a certain restaurant with Ryan. They'd come back, and it was gone, and instead of tarnishing their already-pretty-tarnished reputations, they decided to attempt to fix the problem themselves. They had promptly and efficiently fucked up.

Ryan looked from Shane to Katt, pressing his lips together. "Okay. Okay, let's go. And whatever you do, do not drop that fucking case." He ran across the small clearing towards the nearest building, hearing the barking of dogs getting closer, men shouting orders. He shut the door after Shane and Katt scrambled in, bolting it.

"Sorry, but what the hell are you doing here?" he asked the girl, a frown on his face. 

"I have no idea." She shrugged helplessly. "They just want me to tell them who the Chef is. I don't know, man! I don't know the fucking guy!"

Shane and Ryan shared a look, which lasted for a split second until the door behind them rattled, a rapid knocking following it. Ryan ushered Shane and Katt up the metal staircase beside them; it led into nothing but shadows, but shadows were better than angry men with guns. The door was quickly being forced open, the snarling bark of dogs joining in.

"Up! Up up up!"

Shane did so, flying up the stairs behind Ryan, pulling Katt along. The metal staircase began rattling as they were followed by the guards. Another guard came around the corner above, Ryan swiftly taking his legs out from under him, snatching the walkie-talkie from his belt as he slid down the steps. The sirens had started blaring, steady, rhythmic, condemning. Shane continued following the shorter man down the next corridor, seeing as they couldn't go any higher. He skidded to a halt at the end, pulling the map off the wall.

"What are you doing?" hissed Ryan, grabbing his wrist. "Come on!"

"Evacuation map," replied Shane, letting himself be tugged onward as he studied the black and white map. "Take a left. No, the next one."

The walkie-talkie buzzed in Ryan's hand. _"Approaching vehicle. Airborne. Looks like Horsley's chopper."_ A fuzz, then a reply. _"Let her land."_

Banjo's voice interrupted in its unmistakable drawl. _"Where in the hell is Ricky and that lanky bastard?"_

Shane pulled a face. "Right. Harsh."

Ryan shoved open the fire escape door, pausing just to take in the view before them; floodlights turning back and forth, scanning the open spaces below, the roofs crawling with armed guards, the sound of dogs barking, men shouting. And it went on forever. He ducked as the black helicopter swept in over them, loud enough to wake the dead. It turned sharply, the body swinging outwards as it followed the blades.

"Norris," breathed Ryan, feeling like he could pass out he was so relieved. "Fran! Fran, here!"

He climbed up onto the roof, pulling Shane and Katt up after him, seeing the black helicopter sweeping in towards them. The ladder unraveled, he could hear the voices on the walkie-talkie getting increasingly puzzled as to what exactly Ms Horsley was doing. Ryan let Katt get on first, getting halfway up the ladder himself when he heard it. A single, loud bang, and a furious yell.

"Ryan!"

He glanced down under his arm, seeing Shane abandoning the ladder, hurrying the few meters to the case he'd dropped. "Shane, get back on the fucking ladder, come on, I-" He covered his head as the gunshots rang out, the guards piling onto the roof.

Norris pushed Ryan aside, shotgun cocked. "What the hell is that idiot doing?"

Shane was on his knees beside the case, but he wasn't moving. His arms were folded. No, they weren't folded, he was holding something. He was holding himself, his stomach. He turned his head to look at Ryan, and even though there was nothing out of the ordinary visible, Ryan knew. Ryan just knew. He'd never seen a look that blatantly terrified on Shane's face before.

"He's been hit!" Ryan pushed Norris out of the way, scrambling to get down. "No, stop moving the chopper! Tell it to stay still!"

"No, Ryan!" replied Norris, still firing at the edge of the roof, keeping the guards at bay. "Those guards see that Horsley isn't on this and we'll _all_ die."

Ryan kept going down anyway, even though the roof was beginning to get a bit more distant with each passing second. He stuck a hand out, seeing Shane pushing himself to his feet, still going for the case.

"No, Shane!" Ryan would've fucking strangled him for being so stupidly stubborn. "Forget the fucking case and come here!"

He hopped off the ladder, hearing Norris cursing him to hell and back as he sprinted over to Shane, skidding to a halt beside him. He grabbed his arm, yanking him away from the case still a few feet away, seeing as the guards were beginning to fire back at Norris. They must've seen a lack of Holly Horsley aboard the chopper, a lack of authority, a lack of importance. Fire at will was now a viable option.

"Forget the case!" Ryan pulled Shane towards the receding ladder, refusing to look at the dark stain on the side of his shirt. Not yet. "Get up. Go!"

"Fuck me," hissed Shane, finally doing as he was told. He felt the ladder shake slightly as Ryan clambered on after him. "God, my fucking spleen."

"You're fine." Ryan didn't relax until he saw Shane's long legs disappear into the chopper, clearly dragged. "...You're fine?"

He was fine. It had grazed his side, the bullet leaving a thick scratch if anything. Ryan sat back with a sigh of relief. Stick a plaster on it and be done.

"What about Steven and Andrew?" shouted Ryan over the din, staying low. "They're still in here!"

"No they're not!" Norris lowered the shotgun as the helicopter rose away, into the night sky. "I saw the two little idiots about five minutes east of here. Literally just running away, on foot. We can pick 'em up on the way."

Shane sat back against the wall of the chopper, resting his head against it, eyes closed. He took a moment to catch his breath, the wound in his side still burning. That could've gone horribly, horribly wrong. When he finally opened his eyes, Ryan was standing right over him, hands on his hips. Expectant. So it turned out he wasn't the only one who knew it could've gone horribly, horribly wrong.

"What?" asked Shane, raising an eyebrow up at him. "Don't look mad. Look happy. We're alive."

"You completely ignored what I told you to do." Ryan scowled down at him. "First you split us up by not going the way I told you to. Then you decide to ignore me when I tell you to get on the fucking chopper and forget the case."

"It's not that big of a deal," said Shane sharply, glaring up at him. "Don't start riding my ass about this now, yeah? Give me even thirty seconds to just relax."

"To just _relax?"_ Ryan shook his head in disbelief. "Do you know how quickly I could've been in and out of that place if you weren't slowing me down? If you had just done what I said then we would've been fucking home by now. But no, you had to just run around as if this is all some fucking game to you!" He was shouting by the end of the sentence, the lights of the compound growing smaller behind them. "I told you! I told you back in Washington that you shouldn't come because you're irresponsible! And you are!"

Shane didn't reply for a moment, staring at him, face unreadable. He turned his head aside. Then he pushed himself to his feet, a hand on the wall for balance. "Well I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm so sorry that I'm such a liability in your life. It must be very difficult for you to just be so perfect all the time."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him, still slightly breathless. "What does that mean."

"How about you guys save your domestic for some other time?" suggested Norris, making sure Katt's seat belt was buckled. "There's a few more important things going on right now."

"It means that you're so quick to point out other people's flaws," continued Shane, his eyes still fixed on the shorter man's. "But God forbid you ever even consider the fact that you might have one or two flaws. Like maybe the way you just click your fingers and expect me to jump to obey you. That's not exactly a positive trait, is it? And-"

"I do expect you to do what I say when we're in a situation where I'm ten times more experienced than you'll _ever_ be!"

"You expect me to do what you say all the fucking time, Ryan! Right from the start!"

"Can you please leave it for another time?" muttered Norris, feeling very much awkward, along with Katt beside her. "I can't believe they're actually doing this. Right now. Right here."

Ryan didn't break eye contact with the taller man, feeling the wind from the open sides of the helicopter whipping his hair. "We need to talk. When we get back to the apartment."

Shane swallowed. Then he shrugged, flippant. "Okay. Fine."

Norris spoke loudly, successfully ending any chance of a continued argument. "I see them! Down there. Steven and Andrew."

And she was right. The two men were sneaking along the side, close together, heading towards a hill. The pilot landed the chopper, softly, cutting the engine, taking out her flask of coffee. A quick break from panicky flying. The others disembarked quickly. Well, not that quickly.

"Stay here," whispered Ryan, glaring at Shane.

"No," replied Shane, glaring back. "And you can't stop me."

"I could."

"Will you?" challenged the taller man.

Ryan gave him a flat look. "Then just be fucking quiet."

They caught up with Steven and Andrew within minutes, but the two men didn't even look back at them, just gestured at them to stay quiet. Andrew suddenly stopped, raising a fist. The others stopped too. Well, Shane went on a few more steps before Ryan grabbed his arm, shaking his head firmly at him. _Don't move_. Shane froze. They watched Andrew, who turned his head ever so slightly, tapping his ear with two fingers. _Listen_. The group did so, and the distant sound of engines finally reached them. Andrew gestured for them to get down, army-crawling to the top of the small hill. Ryan placed a hand on the back of Shane's head, basically shoving his face into the sand in an attempt to make sure he was hidden. Andrew turned to face them again, crossing his arms over his chest. _Imminent danger_. Shane frowned at the clicking of guns that came from the group around him, turning to look at Ryan.

"What the fuck is going on?" he mouthed, baffled.

Ryan just put a finger to his lips, shaking his head. _Stay quiet_.

The silence lingered, the sound of engines getting closer. Then they leveled off, not growing louder or quieter. Andrew waved for the rest to come up further, to snatch a peep at what he was seeing. Ryan's eyes widened at the line of jeeps passing just below them, silver headlights beaming, cutting through the dark. It went on for what seemed like miles, engines rumbling, wheels crunching on sand, some of the jeeps simply bristling with armed guards. Shane felt Ryan's hand on his back again, firm. Norris leaned over to Ryan, whispering the words.

"That's the Cord," she said, just audible under the engines. "Banjo's drug line. Goes from the border right into Tucson."

Ryan frowned at her, then looked back at the infinite line of jeeps. "So they're all loaded with drugs?"

"Most definitely." She looked back at the silver line of headlights. "That's why the land's so valuable. Cops can't be landing in on you if you're passing through private land. They need permission." Norris tapped the sand below them. "Whoever gets their hands on this prime real estate will generate so much revenue they won't know what to do with themselves."

Ryan didn't reply for a long moment, his mind racing. "Right."

* * *

Shane closed the door after the girls and the still-blindfolded and gagged Chef, the group leaving silently, as if they were leaving a funeral. He closed his eyes. He already knew there was a hell of a shitstorm coming his way. Ryan hadn't spoken to him the entire drive from Horsley's to their apartment. He'd barely even looked at him. He watched the shorter man sit down at the table, his hands pressed together in front of his mouth. Shane didn't sit. 

"I have four missed calls from Tinsley on my phone," said Ryan into the silence. "Do you want to know what they're probably about?"

"Okay."

"They're probably about how much I just fucked up." Ryan swallowed, still not looking at him. "I fucked up simply because I couldn't just leave you in that compound. Anyone else... The protocol is not to put anything else at risk to save someone unless told to. I completely ignored that."

Shane nodded. "...Am I supposed to say sorry or something?"

"Don't, Shane. Just don't give me attitude right now, I really don't think I could handle it." Ryan let out a heavy sigh. "Secondly, I left the case. I left the case because I prioritized you. Which is exactly why I didn't want you to come."

"Bullshit. You didn't want me to come because you think I'm-"

"It's because you're a distraction, Shane!" interrupted the other man, finally looking at him. "It's because I'll fucking prioritize your life above anything else! I've been going out of my way to make sure you stay safe and it's screwing me up."

Shane stared at him, face unreadable. "So what do you want? For me to leave?"

"Yes. Yes, I want you to leave." Ryan got to his feet, crossing over to him, taking hold of his hands. "I want you to go. Go home."

Shane shook his head. "No, Ryan. I can't."

"You can," replied Ryan firmly. "You just won't."

"Ryan, if I got a phone call saying that you-"

"I have a far bigger chance of getting killed with you here, Shane." He gave his hands a squeeze. "Please, go home."

Shane didn't look away. He didn't let go of the shorter man's hands. "Fine. I'll go home."

Ryan closed his eyes in clear relief. That was easier than he'd anticipated. "Thank you."

"Under one condition."

A heavy sigh. "What condition."

Shane's voice was quiet. "That you come home too."

Ryan shook his head. "Shane, I can't leave halfway-"

"Not with me." Shane swallowed. "Just promise me you'll come home. At all."

Ryan looked up at him. Then he nodded. "I promise."

Shane was quiet for a long moment. Then he pulled him into a warm embrace, resting his chin on the shorter man's head. He felt Ryan's arms slip around him, just as tight.

"I'll leave in the morning," he said, gaze distant. "If this whole thing is really that important to you."

"It's not this whole thing that's important to me," came the mumbled reply. "You're important to me."

Shane stepped back, holding him at arm's length. "Just give me five minutes. I'm gonna ring Sara."

"Yeah. Of course."

Shane stepped outside to make his phone call. And he kept stepping. He went all the way down the corridor, down the stairs, and out the front door of the complex. In fact, he went all the way to the local station. He had a few questions he wanted answered before he left. 

* * *

Shane leaned on the desk in the main station, glancing back and forth. It was empty. He tapped the bell again,  _brring brring brring_ , pretty certain that he was being ignored here. So he sighed heavily, swung one leg up on the desk, and clambered over it with all the grace of Bambi on ice. He straightened up on the other side, dusting himself off, throwing a raised eyebrow behind him; still no one. That was okay, in this particular moment. He moved further into the station. It took him all of five seconds to find someone.

"TJ, isn't it?"

The man whipped around to stare at him, sandwich halfway to his mouth. He blinked. "Yeah."

"I'm Shane. Madej. The detective from the other day."

TJ still didn't lower his sandwich. "Yeah."

Shane nodded, hands on his hips as he glanced around the empty room. "I was, uh, I was ringing the bell a bit there. You mustn't have heard me though."

TJ shook his head. "No."

Shane stared at him, an eyebrow raised. "Can I just ask a few questions here? About the, uh, decision on Charles Morgan's death."

TJ reluctantly lowered his sandwich. "Why?"

"Beca- Wait, why?" Shane frowned. "The hell sort of question is that?"

"I dunno." TJ pointed at the door across the room. "Devon got told what to do. Not me."

Shane paused at this wording. Then he turned his head, squinting at the open door. It looked like it lead into some break room or other. "Is she in there now?"

TJ answered around his sandwich. "Mmhmm."

"Alone?"

"Yeah."

Shane hesitated, wondering if he should ask this clearly-uncomfortable man any more questions. He decided against it, heading over to the door, peering in. The other detective sat alone at a desk, raising her eyes to look at him. She blinked, seeming a bit taken aback.

"Devon?"

She simply nodded.

"Yeah, who told you it was a suicide?" He cut right to the point, beginning to really dislike the lack of cooperation he was being shown. "Just curious."

The name made his blood freeze and boil within seconds of each other. "Goldsworth."

Shane stared at her, eyes wide. "Ricky Goldsworth?"

She nodded again. "Mmhmm. He just said to say it, so we said it."

Shane didn't move. He only turned his head once he heard the muttered conversation from the room he'd just been in; TJ's voice.

"No, no, he's here. Yeah. No doubt. Pretty unmistakable."

Shane gave Devon a lingering look as he moved back towards the room he'd been in, watching the back of TJ's head as the man whispered.

"Tall, glasses, pointy nose. Yeah. It's definitely him. He even said his name, man. I'm telling you, he's out here at the station right now." TJ turned around, seeing Devon through the empty doorway. "Uh, scratch that, Tinsley. I think he just bailed."

Shane slid back over the counter between the station's rooms and the foyer, his heart skipping in his chest. He'd been lucky enough to survive his past encounters with Goldsworth, but something was beginning to make him think that he was teasing fate. He basically ran back to the apartment, glancing back over his shoulders every second step, seeing the other people on the street giving him odd looks. When he got back, he was surprised to see that Ryan hadn't even really noticed he was gone for five times longer than necessary. In fact, Ryan sat on the couch, just staring at his locked phone. He turned his head as Shane closed the door. 

"Tinsley just rang again."

Shane tilted his head at the flat tone. "And?"

"I, uh, I'm off the case, I guess." Ryan dropped his phone onto the table in front of him, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I have to go home too. So I'm probably gonna get fired."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Shane suddenly felt bad. He felt very, very bad indeed. "Sorry. It- It was my fault."

Ryan didn't look at him. "I know."

Wow. That hurt. "C'mon, man. I didn't know-"

"I don't think I want to see you. For a while." Ryan got to his feet, still not looking at him as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I think we should take a break."

Shane stared at him. "A break."

"A real break this time." 

"Ryan." Shane gave a nervous laugh, willing the other man to look at him. "Ryan, you're just upset. I get that. But just-"

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Shane watched him walk away down the hall, disappear into the bedroom, close the door behind him. Firmly. "Goodnight."

For a moment, Shane just stood where he was, stunned. He eventually followed the other man, lingering outside the door. Yeah, he could hear him. He could hear the muffled sobbing. It broke his heart. He took a deep breath, pushing open the door. He wasn't told to leave. He wasn't told anything. He could see the vague shape of the other man lying on the bed, face buried in the pillow. Shane didn't speak. He just lay down beside him, resting an arm over him, feeling the shorter man scooch that bit closer to him, burying his face in his chest. 

"Is there any way I can fix it?" whispered Shane, holding him close.

He felt the shake of the head, heard Ryan's sniffle. "No."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I know it's not really your fault." Ryan closed his watery eyes. "It just feels like that right now."

"What did Tinsley say?"

"Just- Just a bunch of stuff." Ryan smiled weakly, not that the other man could see. "Let's just say I'm not the only one who knew you were trouble the second you walked in."

For once, Shane didn't find such an accusation funny. "I'm sorry."

He went to get up, feeling the hands take hold of him, pulling him back down. Ryan didn't speak. He didn't have to. He just closed his eyes, pressing closer against him, just ready to fall into a coma. He fell asleep within seconds. Shane didn't. Shane stayed awake for hours, holding the other man close, just listening, staring at the darkness of the room. And every shifting shadow was a threat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/ZXorliBQMxg  
> credits mood :'(


End file.
